Page 35 of Unravelled
“He won't" Brahn said quietly.Tharion stirred, a soft grunt escaping him as his eyes fluttered open. Mira leaned in, clutching his hand.
“You’re alright,” she reassured. “You’re okay.” His gaze was hazy, unfocused, but he foundher for a moment before drifting on to Brahn.
“You dragged me out?” he rasped over his shoulder.
Brahn gave a short, humorless huff. “You’re welcome.” Tharion turned his head, blinking slowly toward the blur of Brahn’s silhouette. Silence settled between them, tense, layered, but oddly grounding.
“He needs to rest, we all do.” she said softly, replacing Brahn’s hand with her own "recover for a moment. Then we can ride.”
Brahn gave a small nod. “We’ll move in an hour”.
9
The journey back was slow, Brahn rode ahead scouting the path in case any patrols had seen the fire, while Mira kept close to Tharion. He sat slumped in the saddle, barely conscious, his weight swaying with each step of the horse. Mira rode behind him, one hand wrapped around his waist, the other gripping the reins with white-knuckled focus.
By the time they reached the outer edge of the palace gardens, dawn had lightened the sky. A soft pink bled across the horizon, a gentle indifference to the night just past. As they entered the kitchens, the scent of baked bread and cooking meats clung to the air. The warmth of the ovens wrapped the room in a deceptive comfort, but fear still curled low in her stomach like smoke trapped beneath stone.
Brahn lay Tharion on a cot beside the hearth, wrapping him in Mira’s cloak. His chest rose and fell in shallow, even breaths, but his skin was still too pale, his brow slick with a fever that refused to cool.
“He needs a healer,” Mira said, nearly trembling. Brahn leaned against the cot, arms crossed, shadowed by the flickering firelight.
“And bring someone else into this? One wrong word, Mira, and we lose more than just him.”
“He’s burning up,” she hissed.
“He’ll survive, he always does” Brahn muttered, though the words felt like a prayer more than certainty. He crouched beside Tharion, one hand hovering for a moment before tugging the cloak higher, tucking it just beneath Tharion’s chin.
Mira had turned away. She didn’t wait for permission or another argument. Her boots echoed down the stone hallway, each step ringing with urgency. The corridors were hushed in the early morning hush, but the palace never truly slept. She slipped through the attendants’ stairwell, avoiding the main passageways, until she reached the door of the altar.
She knocked once, sharply. Then again. It was Cleric Perrin who opened the door, still dressed in her night robes, though her veil had already been pulled over herhair. Her face was calm but curious, but Mira could see the tension in the way her fingers gripped the doorframe.
“Mira,” she said, voice low but alert. “What’s happened?”
“He was training,” Mira said quickly, the words tumbling from her tongue before she could second-guess them. “Out past the lower range. He fell. I think he hit his head.He hasn’t woken properly.”
Perrin studied her in silence, eyes sharp behind the thin curtain of her veil. Mira didn’t flinch beneath the weight of it. A long moment passed.
The cleric stepped forward, and gestured for her to lead. “Show me.”
They moved fast, cloaked in quiet and wrapped in the chill that clung to the early dawn. Mira led her through the passages, keeping their route away from the usual patrols and watchful attendants. Perrin said nothing, her steps soft but swift, robes trailing like whispers behind her.
Inside, the warmth of the hearth reached for them, comforting but heavy with worry. Brahn looked up from where he still sat by Tharion’s side, his face etched with concern. He didn’t speak as Perrin crossed the room and knelt beside the cot. She pressed a hand gently to Tharion’s temple, her fingers moving with practiced grace. Her movements were soft, almost reverent.
“He’s lucky. He will recover in a few hours,” she murmured. “But the swelling is dangerous. He needs rest. I’ll mix a poultice to draw the heat and an elixer for the pain if he stirs.” Mira exhaled shakily and sank to her knees on the other side of Brahn.
Perrin glanced between them. “He will recover, but you’ll need to keep him cool and still. And next time,” her voice dipped with quiet steel, “Don't train so recklessly.” Perrin didn’t soften. But there was a thread of understanding beneath her words, thin but present.
Mira offered a tight nod, relief surged beneath her worry. Tharion was going to be all right. She brushed a hand gently against his arm, needing the contact to anchor her.Her jaw clenched to keep the emotion from slipping out. Perrin's curiosity hung heavy in the air, she asked nothing. For that, Mira was quietly grateful. Perrin stood, brushing a hand down her robe.
Mira stood with her and dipped her head. “Thank you.”
Before she could lower herself back to Tharion’s side, Perrin touched her arm lightly, halting her. “You can not tend to him"
Mira blinked.“But I…”.
Perrin continued "Go to the east corridor and send for Acolyte Vesra. She’s to oversee the morning delegations.” Perrin paused, assessing Mira. “No one will question you,” Perrin said briskly. “And you’ll raise suspicions if you’re seen outside the kitchens too often.” There was no room to argue, not with Perrin’s tone, and not with the logic she so effortlessly wielded. “Get some sleep, and then find Harwen.”
Still, Mira hesitated, her eyes drifting to the cot where Tharion lay unmoving. Mira nodded slowly, pressing her palm to Tharion's chest one last time before turning. She crossed to the door. Brahn hadn’t moved, but he looked up, his eyes rimmed with something that might have been exhaustion... or guilt.
