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When they finally reach Elara’s bedchamber, he pushes open the door and places her onto the bed. It is an intimate routine they share now and Elara finds comfort in it. Cael drops to his knees and assists her in removing her shoes. “I am only ill, Cael. I am not injured, and neither am I dying,” she smiles.
Cael pauses, his fingers resting against the leather edge of her shoes as he looks up from his position. He does not treat her condition with a frantic rush that would make her feel like a burden. He places her footwear onto the floorboards.
An illness requires care before it turns severe, he signs, his gestures clear so she can process his sentences through her exhaustion. I am ensuring the frost does not claim another inch of your strength.
He stands, reaching for the heavy blankets. He pulls the thick covers up to her chin, tucking the fabric around her shoulders to insulate her against the chill still clinging to her green dress.
Elara watches him, her head sinking into the pillows as the warmth of the chamber begins to soothe the sharp ache behind her ribs. Despite the burning sensation behind her eyes, she cannot bring herself to fall asleep just yet.
Turning onto her right side, she continues to observe him, her hands tucking under her cheek. When she notices his attempt to leave the bedchamber with quick steps, she speaks. “Stay.”
Cael instantly stops in his tracks and turns to face her. Her blinking slows, her eyelids growing heavy.
His eyes widen as his lips part, his face reddening. Without a single glance toward the door, he makes his way back toward the bed and sits on the floor beside her. Elara almost asks why he chooses to sit on the plush carpet instead of the mattress, but she holds the question back. She slips the gloves from her hands, reaches one palm from beneath the blankets, and lets it rest against the edge of the mattress, close enough to ensure he is still there.
Cael looks up at her hand and places his own over hers. Elara’s eyes finally close, the warmth of his palm remaining against her fingers as sleep begins to pull her under.
The last thing she feels is the touch of his lips on her forehead.
XXXI
QUIET BEAT BETWEEN
C
Cael’s eyes open, his vision blurring.
A weary breath escapes him. Every part of him wants to close his eyes again, but he forces himself upright instead. His legs ache from sitting on the floor. Stretching his arms forward, his long silk sleeve tugs up, where it almost reveals his tattoo.
Quickly adjusting his posture, he feels movement behind him on the bed. He turns toward Elara. She remains asleep, curled onto her side and facing him. His lips turn into a smile before he reaches forward and brushes the back of his hand across her forehead.
Her fever has risen. Cael’s hand remains against her forehead longer than necessary. The heat beneath his palm unsettles him more than he wants to admit. He has seen illness before. He knows that fever can pass with proper care, but the knowledge does little to ease the tightening in his chest.
His gaze lowers to her face, remaining on the faint flush across her cheeks. Only hours ago, she wept, overwhelmed by his confession and begging him to remain when she could no longer stay awake. The thought of leaving her, even for a short while, feels strangely difficult.
He makes no attempt to straighten his appearance except to adjust his crown. His hair remains disheveled, and creases run through his black shirt from the hours he slept.
Leaving the bedchamber behind him, Cael makes his way through the palace. The halls are nearly empty at this hour, lit only by scattered candles that cast long shadows across the stone. He descends the staircase and crosses the main hall, passing the family dining chamber, the kitchens, the council chambers, and several guest dining chambers before reaching the dispensary tucked along the quieter wing of the palace. He raises his hand and knocks against the solid wooden door.
It opens within seconds. Nurse Elsher stands before him. She has served the palace for nearly ten years and remains one of the most trusted healers among the royal staff. She was also the woman who cared for Kaera throughout much of her childhood, often allowing the curious princess to wander the dispensary whenever no patients required her attention.
The chandelier behind her casts a warm glow across her dark skin. Despite the weariness within her brown eyes, kindness softens them the moment she recognizes him. Her black hair is gathered neatly beneath a light gray cap, and a dark coat hangs loosely over the simple clothing she wears beneath it.
“Your Highness,” she greets, her voice rough before she clears her throat. “Please, come in. No one is here at this hour. I treated the last patient nearly an hour ago.”
“What can I do for you, Your Highness?” Nurse Elsher asks as she crosses to the desk in the corner and begins searching the drawers. “Do you need medication for Her Highness?”
Cael turns toward her and signs. Elara has a fever and the condition worsens. What should I do?
Nurse Elsher takes a while to follow the full meaning of his signs. She nods in understanding.
“That is unfortunate, though it is common with fever. Does she have any other symptoms?”
Cael shakes his head before answering. No. Only a worsening fever, a blocked nose, and dizziness.
Nurse Elsher walks to the cabinets lining the far wall, each drawer marked with careful labels. Kneeling before the lowest cabinet, she unlocks it with a small ring of silver keys and removes a freshly prepared box containing a bottle of syrup.
After locking the drawer again, she returns and places the box into Cael’s hands.
