Page 33 of Hold Me Fast
“Can you do nothing for her?” Jowan asked.
“If it was just the alcohol, I would give her laudanum to calm the symptoms,” Evangeline explained.
“Ah.”
Evangeline nodded. “Ah, indeed.”
Jowan slept in snatches. Tamsyn barely slept at all. She was incoherent much of the time and confused even when she was mostly conscious. She was locked in a world of pain, peopled by spiders, snakes, bears, lions, and other threatening entities. As far as he could tell, Tamsyn held the worst of them to be the elf king.
It was the elf king who directed all the other delusions. Jowan couldn’t tell whether his goal was Tamsyn’s death or her capture. Perhaps Tamsyn herself was not sure. What she did believe, Jowan came to realize, was that the Earl of Coombe—Guy, she called him—was the elf king.
“He is coming for my music,” she told Jowan once, during one of her semi-conscious states. “He wants to consume it. Then he shall be full of music, and I shall be empty. Forever empty.”
Hour followed hour, and day followed day. The excellent cook sent up meals at measured intervals. The maid came and went, nurturing the fire, bringing trays, and then fetching them again when the food and drink had been consumed. Tammie continued to suffer.
The three caring for her fell into a routine. If her fever spiked, Evangeline would wash her. If she convulsed, whoever was with her would make sure she had something soft under her head and was lying on her side. If she was frightened by the figments of her imagination, Jowan or Bran would hold her until the delusion went away.
Then one day, her temperature fell almost to normal, and she did not convulse. Not even once. She fought imaginary creatures only twice in the entire day, and several times roused enough from her confused state to know their names and remember the escape from London.
And when she went to sleep that evening and slept right through the night, Evangeline said, with a relieved smile, “She is on the mend.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tammie woke. Herbody ached as if she had walked too far or ridden a horse for the first time in months, but the pain was gone, a vanishing memory. She had a dull headache and a dry throat, but the uncomfortable feeling in her gut felt more like hunger than sickness, and her mind was clear in a way it had not been for a long time.
She opened her eyes. Sunlight stretched across the floor from the window, gilding Jowan’s silhouette as he sat by the window, studying some papers. His orange and green aura was barely perceptible, perhaps because she was sober. As she watched, he turned a page and shot her a glance, putting the papers down and standing when he saw that she was awake.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Hungry. Thirsty. As if I have been in a fight.”
He grinned. “Thirsty I can deal with immediately.” He crossed to a jug on a chest of drawers and poured some of the contents into a glass. “Here. Shall I help you?”
She took the glass, shaking her head. “I can manage. Thank you.” She had fractured memories of him holding a glass to her lips. Him, and also his brother and the nurse, Evangeline. Bran’s aura was predominately blue and yellow, while Evangeline’s was pink.
“I will order a tray,” he said and left the room. He was back in less than a minute. “As to the fight, Tamsyn—Tammie, I mean—it was one hell of a fight, and from the looks of you this morning, you won.”
Suitable food for an invalid was delivered within thirty minutes. Scrambled eggs on toasted bread, and a glass of milk. It looked wonderful and tasted good, too. By that time, Evangeline had ordered Jowan from the room so Tammie could attend to personal needs and have a quick wash.
“My ring,” she said, when she got as far as washing her hands. “What happened to my ring?”
“You said that the elf king was turning it to fire, and asked me to look after it for you,” Evangeline explained. “It is here, on your dressing table.” Tammie tried to put it on, but it hung loosely on her middle finger, and it would not go over the knuckle of her thumb. Evangeline tied a piece of ribbon to it and knotted the ends so that Tammie could slip it over her head.
Jowan returned to watch her eating, and Bran put his head in to express his delight at her improvement. Jowan looked exhausted. In fact, all of them bore the signs of sleepless nights. “How long has it been?” Tammie asked. “Since we left London, I mean?”
To Tammie’s amazement, Jowan replied, “We have been here for ten nights.”Ten nights!Tammie remembered the first clearly and perhaps three more. Long tortuous nights, with equally long miserable days in between. After that, nothing that could possibly be real.
“Ten nights! No wonder you all look as if you have been run over by a carriage.”
Jowan gave a huff of a laugh. “I could do with a decent night’s sleep,” he admitted. “I guess we all could.”
They had suffered those ten days and nights with her, these three. Tammie felt a surge of love and gratitude. “You held on,” she said. “All of you. I cannot thank you enough. I know it must have been difficult.”
“I’ve known easier days,” Bran admitted. “But it was worth it, Tammie. Or it will be if you stay off the poppy and the booze.” The last few words were stern.
“Of course, she will,” Jowan told his brother. “You’ve done it, Tammie. I don’t mind telling you I was worried a time or two.” He shuddered.
“You will need to rest and recover,” Evangeline decreed. “Eat well. Sleep a lot. The rest of us, too, must sleep and recover. But Jowan is correct. You have won. You should be proud of yourself.
