Page 105 of Waking Roslyn

He looked the way I felt.

Eventually, he placed a hand on the duchess’s back, but she pulled away and his face became even more tortured. A few moments later, he left. I understood what drove him away. Uselessness could wear down even the strongest of men.

The duchess stayed at Roslyn’s bedside, gently stroking her hand before deciding Roslyn’s hand was cold and tucking it back under the covers. Then her hands fluttered, useless, over Roslyn’s arms and around her hair before she fisted her hand and dropped it and her head to the mattress.

“How could I have let this happen?” she sobbed. “I was so anxious to get her back that I ignored the danger. How could I have been so selfish?”

I swallowed the words I wanted to say. She wasn’t asking me anyway, and I harbored the same feelings. Why had she insisted on Roslyn’s return? I knew that wasn’t fair, though. I couldn’t really blame a mother and father for wanting their child back.

The duchess’s cries turned into keening sobs, and eventually Everly stepped up and placed a tentative hand on Her Grace’s shoulder.

“You are distraught, Your Grace. Go rest. I’m certain John here could help you back to your chambers. I will watch over her.” She looked to me with a commiserating smile.

I shook my head. “You can help Her Grace to her chambers. I’ll remain here with Lady Roslyn.” It probably sounded rude, but I wasn’t going to compromise. Roslyn had trusted me to protect her, so unless one of her parents was in the room, I wasn’t going to leave.

“I can’t leave her,” the duchess said.

Everly patted her shoulder. “You’ll be no use to her tomorrow if you don’t rest yourself. John is right. He’ll watch over her, and I’ll be here if she needs anything, and the doctor will be in to check on her throughout the night.”

The duchess just looked up and shook her head.

“Come, Your Grace,” Everly said with a little more force, tugging on the duchess’s arm. “Lady Roslyn will be taken care of. Come with me.”

The duchess finally gave in and allowed Everly to pull her to her feet and lead her from the room.

Being left alone with only Roslyn’s unconscious form was more disconcerting than I would have expected. The hopelessness of the situation felt heavier somehow when there was no one else in the room to hope with me. So it was a relief when Everly returned. She was efficient in her movements as she set up a pallet in the corner to sleep on after I’d declared that I would stay awake. The idea of sleep seemed mad. Perhaps because I had not exhausted myself with weeping as her parents had. Perhaps because I’d locked away all of my worry and frustration and so now it sat in my gut, loud and heavy and wanting to escape.

Everly’s quiet snores were a comfort when they started, but they were also a stark reminder of how silent Roslyn’s sleep was. Devoid of hums or snorts, twitches or turning. Very nearly devoid of life.

And when that thought lodged in my head, I couldn’t keep it in anymore. My breathing quickened and I put a hand over my mouth to quiet my grief as I leaned against the wall and slid to the ground. Tomorrow loomed large and hopeless. Her condition was so unaltered thus far that it was hard to think anything would change, ever. So I wept into the silence, with only the gentle rhythm of Everly’s snoring to remind me that life went on. Time kept moving.

My weeping continued, but eventually I shifted and crawled on my knees over to Roslyn’s side. I carefully reached out a hand, terrified that when I felt her skin, it would be cold. But when I laid the backs of my fingers against her cheek, she was warm. Not too warm, but the kind of warm that reminded me of comfort, reminded me of home.

That one touch raised my spirits more than any of the doctor’s encouraging words. My Roslyn was warm and alive. Too still, certainly. Too silent. But warm nonetheless.

Perhaps she would wake in the next moment, or the next hour. Perhaps I would be the one to see her eyes open for the first time. Perhaps I could bring her parents the good news. My hope was back, and that was frightening in and of itself.

***

I was looking out the window as morning broke. I hadn’t realized until now that Roslyn’s room was in one of the corner towers of the castle. The view from up here was spectacular. Saldine was beautiful, especially from this vantage point. It was fitting. Roslyn deserved all the beauty the world had to offer.

The duke came to check on his daughter soon after the sun had risen. I watched as he approached with both trepidation and hope fighting across his features, but when he saw that she lay just as she had the day before, his expression sank into resignation. He fell into the chair by her bed, took her hand and pressed it between his own. “Wake up,” he begged in a whisper. “Please, Rosie. Wake up.”

A hand pressed to my shoulder, and I turned to see Captain Sterling standing beside me. “Go sleep,” he said.

I shook my head and turned back to watch Roslyn. Roslyn, who wasn’t moving. “I can’t.”

“John.” This time it was the duke who spoke to me. “He’s right. Go rest.”

“I can’t leave her.” Yes, I trusted the captain—to an extent—but leaving Roslyn in his care wasn’t an option.

“Yes, you can,” the duke said with quiet authority. “Either I or my wife will stay by her side, and Sterling will stand guard. You’ve watched over her through the night; let us have a turn.”

Maybe I could. His Grace had said either he or the duchess would always be with her. If that was the case, it might be all right. Plus, they had more right to be here than I did. I kept having to remind myself of that fact, because though my mind knew it, the rest of me bristled at the thought. Every piece of me knew that I belonged to her. I was hers and she was mine. My responsibility. My love. My life.

My everything.

What if I never had the chance to tell her that?