Page 155 of Revealing Fate

“How is Saul?” she asked, changing the subject to prevent Kal’s mood from slipping into darkness at the mention of his only remaining family. She’d finally succumbed to exhaustion and left her patient’s bedside close to four in the morning.

He met her gaze. “On the mend. Thanks entirely to you.”

She sighed, relieved that her efforts proved worthwhile. “I’m glad. It will take some time for the antidote to purge the morticana from his system. He’ll need to drink the tonic I made him for the next week at least. And he should shift as soon as he’s regained sufficient strength to do so.”

Felíne shuddered to think of the state in which they’d found Saul Leino when they’d arrived yesterday. Mender Stroupe, bless him, had been doing his utmost to stave off Saul’s persisting fever with little success. Without quick intervention, Saul’s body temperature would have risen to a damaging degree. Next would have come febrile seizures and potential brain injury, something no antidote in Ilistaar could have reversed.

“Lucky for him, he’ll be under the watchful eye of the most talented mender in the eastern lands.”

Did he mean her? Felíne swallowed. She was no exceptional talent. She knew how to prepare poultices and sew minor wounds. She understood basic anatomy and had a mind for herbal tinctures and brews. But Felíne wasn’t a surgeon. And beyond that, Kal’s words implied she would be around to monitor Saul’s recovery. They both knew she wouldn’t be, even if only one of them was willing to accept it.

“Kal,” she began. How did she tell him she couldn’t stay? That she had to return to Asteros despite her dread to do so? That duty demanded she leave him? Felíne’s eyes found their home in Kal’s black gaze. How did she pull her own heart from her chest and crush it in her fist?

Santhe entered the refectory a moment later, saving Felíne from having to further contemplate such impossible questions. “There you are,” she said with a tired smile. Though Felíne could see the exhaustion coloring the slighter woman’s features, there was relief in her expression. “Saul’s awake. He’d like to see you both.”

Beulah stuck her head out of the kitchen, reminding Felíne that she and Kal had not been alone. Flour dusted the front of her tunic, and she held a bunch of half-chopped parsley in one hand. “He’s awake?”

Santhe nodded. Kal pushed off the floor and helped Felíne to her feet. “Let’s not keep him waiting,” he said to the women. “Averting death makes a man terribly impatient to live.”

The only thing Saul appeared impatient to do was get back to work, judging by the documents and ink bottle that now occupied his bedside table. He glanced up from scrawling on a page when they knocked and entered.

He offered a smile, and though his complexion was still far too pale, his lids heavy, and his posture supported by a thick stack of pillows, the expression was genuine. Felíne approached the bed.

“May I?”

Saul nodded and offered his wrist. She set her fingers along the thumb side groove between bone and tendon to feel for the pulsating artery. Steady, strong, and appropriately paced. “Well,” Felíne said, “I’m no longer concerned for your heart, Mr. Leino.”

Beulah whisked away the parchment cluttering the table and replaced it with a steaming bowl filled with tender white meat, rice, and thick broth. Santhe poured a tall wooden mug with fresh, unpoisoned tea and added a few drops of Felíne’s tonic, setting it next to the bowl.

Kal leaned heavily against the wall, arms crossed, a sardonic smile playing across his lips as he watched the three women attend the ailing man. “Perhaps I should invite someone to poison me, Saul,” he mused. “The recovery draws the unwavering attention of single, claimed, and married women.”

Saul glowered. As did the women.

Kal winked at Felíne.

Beulah was married. Santhe was single, as far as she knew. And Felíne was most definitely claimed. But to whose claim was he referring? Her stomach did a cartwheel.

“I didn’t ask you here to mock my woes, Kalevar,” Saul replied, coughing slightly.

“Why did you ask us here?” Felíne inquired.

“To formally grant you a full pardon, Kitty,” Saul said. “Before witnesses.”

Felíne’s lips parted. “I…” She didn’t know what to say. Despite Lucien Cross and Rask’s conspiring, Felíne had fully expected to answer for the lingering accusation against her. Saul Leino was a good man, but he was also a just one, and he protected the interests of his people with unfaltering affirmation. “But I broke the law.”

“Maybe let’s forego your self-sacrificial impulses for a day,” Kal suggested.

Felíne resisted the impulse to flip him a rude gesture.

“Kitty,” Beulah said, taking her hands. “You saved this man’s life. Allow him to repay you in the way he knows best, hm?”

“Will the people of Meress accept such a pardon?” Felíne inquired.

Saul readjusted one of his pillows. “They will. You performed an unquestioning act of loyalty to Meress in saving me.” He fixed her with twinkling chestnut eyes. “There was nothing in it for you. That kind of altruism is written into our bylaws as a stipulation for circumventing an inquiry.” Saul waved a rolled sheaf of paper tied with a garnet ribbon.

“Since when?” Felíne asked.

“Since I suggested the addendum some years ago,” Kal replied.