Page 5 of Brighter Than Gold

He nodded and left the room.

I collapsed onto the bed, my body trembling as I cried into the pillow. I yearned for Kaspian, to have him be there to comfort me. To have him take me in his arms and sit with me until the mood had passed.

“What’s the matter?” a voice said from behind me. Briar rushed over to the bed. “What happened? Are you all right?” She gently brushed my hair from my face.

I collected myself with a shaky breath. “I’m fine, thank you,” I lied. “Just pregnancy hysteria I think.”

“Well, you cry all you need then. Get it out.” She dried my cheeks with the sleeve of her blouse. “My sister, the poor woman, had a bout of pregnancy hysteria. She told me that anything at all could trigger tears. One night, when we were all sharing a meal together, she burst into tears when my mother brought out a bread pudding for dessert.”

“Did she hate bread pudding?” I asked.

“That’s the thing, my sister loves it!” Briar began to laugh. “She was so happy about the dessert, she burst into tears.” I cracked a tiny smile over the absurdity. “Let me help you change so we can go eat. You must be starving.”

“Yes, let’s go down and see if I cry over my pot roast,” I said with a small laugh.

* * *

I knew before my eyes had opened that my stomach was betraying me. I barely managed to lean over the side of the bed before I was sick. Then suddenly, large hands were helping me sit up.

“Here,” Callan said handing me a cloth.

I coughed and sputtered trying to regain my breath, keeping my eyes tightly shut with embarrassment.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Dandy,” I replied facetiously.

Callan strode to the dresser and poured me a glass of water and searched through a bag for the brown bottle of medicine. He uncorked it and knelt next to me.

“Here.”

I snatched it away quickly, his proximity was awkward as he was dressed in only light cotton sleeping shorts. I took a long sip and sat calmly, waiting as the medicine began to soothe my angry stomach.

“Oh, please don’t! I’ll take care of it,” I urged as Callan tossed a damp cloth over my vomit, and wiped the floor clean.

“It’s fine.”

I sat with my head in my hands, mortified.

“Do you need anything?” Callan offered after several minutes of silence.

“No,” I answered from behind my hands. I heard him walking around the room as he put another log onto the dying fire. The sun hadn’t yet risen and the room was dark, and probably quite cold.

When I finally risked opening my eyes, I found him seated in the bed across from me, now wearing a tunic thankfully.

“What?” I sniped as he continued staring.

“Nothing,” Callan answered innocently.

I reached over and took a few sips of the water.

“You’re making this very awkward.”

“Sorry.” He rolled back onto his bed and tucked an arm behind his head.

I sneered and took a few more sips. I leaned back into my own bed and tugged the blankets up to my neck, feeling suddenly exposed in front of him.

I lay there with my eyes closed, hoping the medicine would quell the nausea I still felt. I heard Callan shifting restlessly in his bed and I rolled over and stole a glance at him. He lay as he had before, one hand under his head, and he stared straight up at the ceiling. He seemed much more vulnerable now, no heavy leathers or weapons, but still stiff, like he was incapable of ever relaxing. I wondered if he’d even slept.

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