She smiled that beautiful, innocent…dangerous smile. “Good. I'm going to come back in half an hour, by which point I expect you to be cleaned up. I'll get some breakfast cooked up for you, and if need be I'll shovel it down your throat. Bye! You're welcome.” Just like that, she was gone.
Leaving him still standing there, dumbfounded. He was still standing there when a servant came in with a bucket of hot water. With little other choice, and the steaming tub surprisingly appealing, he followed Jaylee’s…suggestions. Telling himself he would have done it anyway, even without her interference.
It was undeniably refreshing. He still had a fever, he was still famished, but his body was less sore and the headache gone.
As promised, Jaylee returned, bearing two trays of food. “There, see! You look better already. And I brought myself breakfast too, no one likes eating alone…well,” she set the trays down at his table, “you might, being a recluse and all. But not today! Come on, eat up.”
This was ridiculous. It was especially ridiculous that he was tolerating it. “You know, I don't usually tolerate—”
“Oh, shush, just eat.” She smiled and set to work on her own tray.
Hunger was more powerful than dislike. He joined her, doing his best not to let on just how hungry he was.
“So,” she pushed aside her mostly empty tray, “Enisham told me you agreed to my being the new Warden. I told him he might be hallucinating.”
“I told him what he wanted to hear so he would stop talking and let me leave,” he grumbled under his breath.
She smirked at him. “He hates you too, if you ever wondered.”
“Ha. He never left much room for doubt.”
“Alright, then are you looking into other candidates today? I could make some suggestions.”
Yhkon got up and paced a few steps, the shaky feeling gone after a full meal. “I'm not looking today, actually. Or doing anything.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Simple, I don't want to.”
“So…don't you need to pick a new Warden?”
No. He didn't. But he couldn't tell her that…he couldn't explain to anyone that if Talea was dead, there was no point. He shouldn't have to explain. How was it not obvious?
She continued. “Well, how about you go sit with your ward, then, until you feel like it. And before you object, it would be better for you than sitting in here alone, and she will certainly feel better with someone she knows around.”
“She's asleep, my presence won't make much difference.”
“No she's not.” Jaylee said it as if it were common knowledge. “She woke up an hour ago.”
He moved toward the door, scowling at her. “Why wasn't I told?”
“That was my other reason for visiting. I would have told you earlier, but I knew you'd rush out and you needed some food first. You wouldn't be any good to Talea if you passed out, now would you?” She waved him toward the door with a wink. “Go on, you can thank me later.”
Rather than respond to her insolence, he left, navigating the palace at a jog. A Stitch was seated outside Talea’s closed door. “She wanted to be alone,” he said. “Didn’t want to see her family yet. But she'll see you.”
Inside, Talea was propped up with pillows, face still pale, but looking less pained and more awake than last time. The distant, dark look in her eyes was far more worrying. “Talea?” He sat down at the foot of the bed. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah,” she said it without even looking at him. “Lots of drugs for the pain, I guess.”
“Good, but,” he waited for her to make eye contact, “that's not the only thing I was asking about.” She didn't say anything, so he continued. “Why didn't you want to see your family?”
She shrugged, wincing a bit. “I don't know. Later, maybe.”
“Is it the battle? You're awfully young to be in—”
She silenced him with four words. “It was my fault.”
Yhkon cringed, knowing immediately what she meant. And he knew how she felt. Grrake, despite his best efforts, hadn't been able to convince him Tessa's death wasn't his fault after four years. How could he of all people convince Talea that Ahjul’s death wasn't hers? “That's not true. You'd just taken a fatal injury. No one could expect you to keep fighting…I shouldn't have asked it of you, I was just, I was desperate. It was not your fault, okay? If anything it was mine.”
“But…” She pressed her lips in a tight line. “If I hadn't…if—”
“Listen…” He hesitated. He knew how she felt, and he knew he should explain to her, to try and help…In the past, he'd never been willing to talk about Tessa, with her or anyone. But it seemed as though that unwillingness might have been the very beginning of their conflict. And how could he keep shutting her out? She had almost died. She still might. And if he could help her…well, whether she survived or not, he owed it to her. “You know…Tessa, who I wouldn't tell you about? Well…she was my fiance. It was just a few weeks before the wedding that Grrake and I had to make a trip to Zentyre. Tessa wanted to come…I told her I didn't think it was a good idea…” He balled his fists. Remembering her pleading look, the tender kiss that had melted his resolve. “But I gave in. She came. And on that cliff that overlooks the ocean, near Skoti’s outpost? Kaydor attacked us with fifty men. And I…” He swallowed as the memory played in his mind. The explosion of pain in his stomach as Kaydor stabbed him, followed by Tessa's scream. “And I couldn't protect her. Kaydor gave me the same injury as you have now, and he killed Tessa.”
Talea listened in perfect silence, eyes now soft with empathy. She took his hand.
He looked down at her small hand in his. “I've blamed myself for her death for four years. So maybe I'm not one to talk…but it wasn't your fault, Talea, and in any case it doesn't help anyone to think that way. I know I probably can't say anything to convince you…in the end only you can make the decision to forgive yourself, to accept it for what it is.”
There were tears on her cheeks. “Thank you, for telling me.” She took a deep breath. “I just…Ahjul was…” She was crying, trying to stop with a grimace and holding her bandaged torso, but unable to.
He did the only thing he knew to—put his arms around her and pull her into an embrace. When she stopped crying he let her go, wondering if he should have hugged her in the first place. But she seemed calmer, and smiled a little at him. “Thanks,” was her hoarse whisper.
This was awkward, and entirely out of his element. But he felt it was right. “I should have just told you when you asked, I just…I don't like talking about it.”
“Noticed that.” There was a hint of mirth in her face, making him smile. “But, really…I shouldn't have pushed so hard. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to talk about it if you don't want to…” It was a rather uncertain statement. He knew she did want that complete openness from him. Maybe he couldn’t blame her for that, when she had been away from home and all her family, on such a crazy “mission,” surrounded by danger, with him as one of her closest companions.