Page 49 of The Curse of Golden Blood
I sighed. "Your loyalty is admirable, but—"
"It's not just about loyalty. It's about being responsible." Her hands clenched into fists. "These people are counting on us. They're depending on us to save them. I can't just sit here and let them die."
"You will not," I said. "But you can't help anyone if you're too weak to stand."
"I'll get stronger. I’ll eat more." Defiant, she snatched the spoon to scoop more soup into her mouth.
"No. You'll take a rest. We'll continue the bloodletting when you're healed."
"But—" Her defiance fell flat against the pallor of her face.
"For once, can you just do what I say without arguing?"
Her eyes flashed. "Just... Just for a couple days. Then we'll start again."
"We'll see."
She narrowed her eyes at me, and I was half certain she was plotting my death in that mind of hers.
I set the bowl down, then stood. "I'm going to get some work done. Do you want me to move you back to the bed, or are you fine where you are?"
"I'm fine here."
"Alright. Call for me if you need anything."
"I won't."
I shook my head as I walked off. There were times when her maturity surprised me. But today, she was just like a petulant toddler. I left her there, sprawled out on the cushions and returned to my desk. The pile of papers looked as daunting as ever, but I forced myself to focus.
An hour passed, then two. The rain fell in endless sheets, drumming against the windowpanes. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the floor.
I'd been reading the same report for the last twenty minutes when I heard a sound.
It was faint, almost lost beneath the rain, but I recognized it instantly.
I pushed away from the desk and stood. The next time it came, I was halfway across the room.
She was curled up on the cushions where I'd left her, the blanket draped around her like a shawl. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep.
I leaned closer and realized the sound wasn't a cry. It was a plea.
"Ciradyl," she said. "Forgive me, Ciradyl. I didn't know, I didn't mean to... Don't die. Please don't die."
A tear ran down her cheek, and I caught it with my thumb. She shivered. I pulled the blanket up around her and brushed her hair away from her face.
The feeling was so unfamiliar that I could barely name it. But as I sat by her side and watched her sleep, one word rose up from the storm inside me.
Protect.
I wanted to protect her.
An instinct, forged deep in the hidden marrow of my bones.
Now, as I sat beside her and gazed down at her sleeping face, I understood why.
The word protect had been forged into me long before I could name it, tempered in the night the storm took my mother.
Her face in sleep blurred, and another face rose in its place.
