Page 26 of The Awakening of Essensia

Afternoon light poured through tall windows to her left and a fire burned low at the foot of the bed. A wardrobe stood against the far wall near the door. Beside her, a plush armchair sat empty.

Where was she?

As if in answer, the door opened, and Kili bustled in with a tray.

“She lives,” said the old woman. She set the tray on the dresser and turned, one hand on her hip.

“What happened?” Vaelira asked, frowning at the unfamiliar bedlinen.

Kili shook her head, tutting to herself. “So terrible, and after everything. You’ve been through enough.” She straightened and took a mug from the tray, crossing the room. “Drink,” she said, tipping the mug to Vaelira lips.

The taste was bitter, and her stomach twisted. Gods, she was hungry. “Where am I?”

“No space in the San, love. I would have preferred you in there myself, but you’re not so badly hurt. Not physically anyway.”

The matron shook her head again and poured water from a pitcher to refill the mug. Vaelira took it, but she didn’t drink.

“Kili.” Vaelira waited until the woman looked at her. “Where am I?”

The woman sighed. “He didn’t want me to tell you. Thought it might make you uncomfortable.” She considered a moment and flicked her wrist dismissively. “Pah! What does it matter? You’re in Eli’s room. He insisted. Said you shouldn’t have to wake up in your cottage after everything.”

Vaelira frowned, scanning the space again. There was nothing here that marked it as his. No boots by the hearth, no clothing, no personal belongings. Still, beneath the herbs and woodsmoke, something lingered. She hadn’t realised she knew his scent until it found her.

“Whoever bandaged your arm is a ha’fwit,” Kili said.

Vaelira nodded, not really listening. Her gaze had dropped to the white wrappings around her forearm.

A flash of a blade. Cold hands.

Her brother—no, not him.

A cold sweat broke out along the back of her neck. Her chest tightened with a sharp lancing pain. She needed air. She couldn’t get enough air.

Gentle, worn hands found hers. Kili’s voice cut through the rising panic. “Hush, child. I’m here. You’re safe. It’s over.”

Vaelira focused on her voice, on the rough thumb brushing gentle circles over her knuckles. Her pulse slowed, her lungs finally loosening enough to take a full breath.

“Good,” said Kili. “Now lie back down. Keep breathing just like that. Very good. I’ll fetch you something to eat.”

Vaelira lay back, steadying her breaths, forcing her mind clear until sleep tugged her under and her eyes drifted shut.

She woke to darkness, her vision narrowed and blurred through heavy lids. A figure sat next to the bed. It shifted slightly. Terror tried to surface, but exhaustion kept her down. Her eyes shut, the scent of leather and pine enveloping her as her mind drifted back into blissful nothingness.

Rain tapped against the window, dragging her from the horrors of sleep, from cold hands at her throat, her mother’s dark curls, and the scent of burning timber.

She rolled onto her side and stared at the empty chair. Had she imagined the figure in the night, or had someone been watching her sleep? She shuddered at the thought.

She sat up stiffly. Her body had needs apparently, even after everything, but movement felt wrong. Her limbs ached and her throat was dry. Each sensation was a quiet, insistent reminder that something inside her refused to give up. The world had not ended and her body knew this, even if her mind didn’t.

The washroom was across the hall. When she returned, the bedroom door stood ajar. She pushed it open and found Freya inside, her freckled face frowning in mock disgust.

“This room is revolting, Lira. I don’t know how you can stand it.” She grinned, but it lacked its usual bluster.

Freya was propped in bed, crutches resting against the chair, her splinted leg stretched out in front of her. The sight nearly took Vaelira off her feet.

She crossed the room in seconds, arms wrapping around Freya’s neck, her face buried in her friend’s hair. Sobs rocked her, sudden and violent. Each one a release of the agony that burned at her sternum, that threatened to swallow her whole.

Vaelira pulled away, wiping her eyes, then sat on the edge of the bed. She glanced down at the splinted leg. “How is it?”