Sebestyén’s breath ceased when Rea pressed a hand over his forehead, her expression full of concern. What had happened? How long had it been? Damn, had he missed the meeting on the corn laws? He remembered fainting but couldn’t remember how long ago that was.
“Your fever seems to have broken,” she remarked, with a smug, self-satisfied smile. She wiped away her tears when he was distracted, but redness still rimmed her eyes in a telltale sign of her distress. Sebestyén desperately wanted to make whatever was causing her pain disappear, but there was a strong possibility that he was the cause, and he couldn’t make himself disappear. “You’re lucky you collapsed at my house. I’m well-versed in medicine. If you’d fainted elsewhere, you’d be in your grave by now.”
“Come now. That must be an exaggeration. One can’t die of just a fever.”
“It wasn’t just a fever.” Her eyes became moist again. Blushing, she cast her glance downward. “I’d almost convinced myself that you were going to slip away from me. You didn’t move for four days.”
“Four?” Sebestyén cried, incredulous. “How long has it been since I fainted?”
“Six dawns.”
“Six! And no one came looking for me?”
“Not a soul.”
“And you didn’t find that suspicious?”
“Forgive me for being too engrossed in making you medicine and fretting over your possible demise.”
Sebestyén softened. Rea did look exhausted, even more than she had when he brought the girl to her during winter.
“I didn’t mean to…” He stuttered. “What I want to say is, I’m truly indebted to you. It appears you’ve saved my life.”
“The gods saved your life.”
“I’m sure they couldn’t have done it without your help.”
At that, she burst into laughter. “You have some strange ideas, general.”
Sebestyén swallowed, unable to make sense of his happiness at waking up next to her and tasted the vile concoction in his mouth again. “Um…can I request a glass of water? If it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Have as much water as you want. All of it is yours. This is your kingdom, no?”
Dipping into a pot, she offered him a cup of water. It didn’t look very clean, but he was too thirsty for it stop him from devouring that cup and three others after it.
“Would you be needing supper as well?” Rea asked.
“It’s odd; you’re being too solicitous. I’d have imagined you’d want me out of your house at the earliest.”
“I daresay I’ve warmed up to you over this last week,” she said.
“Do you reckon I’m well enough for a stroll outside?”
Rea sucked in a sharp breath. “You want to leave?”
“Only for supper. I’d prefer to eat at a tavern or someplace less…”
“Filthy?”
Ugh. He should have thought that sentence though before shooting his mouth.
“That wasn’t the precise word I was looking for,” said Sebestyén. “I want you to rest, Rea. I can tell that you’ve scarcely had any sleep.”
“I’m used to it. And I’m not hungry.”
He wondered what he said to make her retreat into her shell. Well, he could only try to coax her out using the only method he knew—pleading.
“Then be my companion.” Sebestyén managed to spring to his feet. Rolling his shoulders, he was relieved to find the ache in his body gone. Whatever medicine she’d given him, it was a miracle. “I’ve never navigated these streets.”
“You own these streets,” she stated baldly.
“Doesn’t mean I know them.”
Exasperated, Rea rose. “Then I suppose I have no choice.”
The tavern was hot, and the food hotter. The owner, recognizing who he was, provided him a private room, along with the best delicacies the establishment could afford.
Steaming bowls of gulyásleves interspersed with plates of szalonna and libamáj and accompanied by copious amounts of wine that could’ve stoned an entire army. And another table spread with the main dishes—rich beef stew with dumplings and barley, bacon and egg preserved in a rich stew of tomato and paprika.
After an entire week without food, Sebestyén was a starving man. He gobbled the entire tableau of food in a matter of moments. Rea watched him reminding him intermittently to slow down. But other than that, she didn’t offer much in the way of conversation. On any other day, she’d be bursting with wisecracks and stories of the Suveri.
“Are you tired? You don’t seem to be in the mood to talk,” he said.
“It has been an exhausting week,” she replied, not facing him.
“Well, you won’t have to stay in that dingy room of yours much longer. Your new cottage will be completed before winter sets in.”
“Ah yes, I saw some men working on it.”
“You went to the valley?”
She shrugged. “I needed to obtain some ingredients for your medicine.”
“But you went all the way to the valley to get it?”
No wonder she was exhausted. Getting to the valley was an arduous trip, even by horse. If she’d walked, she would have depleted all her energy going to and from the valley.
“I had no other choice.” Rea yawned.
“Did you run into any danger there?” he probed reasoning it might be a possible cause for her sudden avoidance of his gaze.
“Danger? No. But I ran into some other Suveri. They were leaving.”
“You must’ve been glad to see them. There haven’t been any Suveri in the valley since…I’ve lost track of how long ago that last caravan came.” Sebestyén’s hand stilled on his spoon midway to his mouth. “Why didn’t go with them? Haven’t you been waiting for a mitma since last spring?”
“I wanted to, but how could I?” Her voice was a whisper. “Heartless as I am, I’m not so cruel as to leave a man to die, especially one who has saved my life before.”
“That’s preposterous. I wouldn’t have died!”
“You were half-gone when I returned,” she raised her voice. “I was terrified. You didn’t even breathe normally until yesterday. So yes—you could’ve easily died.” Her fingers moved without thought tracing the scarred outline of his jaw, caressing his lips. Sebestyén couldn’t breathe.
“Your lips were so still, like a corpse’s,” she said.
“But what will you do now?” Sebestyén asked. “Mitmas don’t come often to the valley.”
“I’ll wait. Another year. Another season. Another decade. However long it takes.”
Another decade? She’d been an old woman by then. Or more likely, a spirit haunting the moors. Sebestyén’s chest felt crushed at that thought. A world without her…recently it was hard to imagine such a place.
“Come with me,” he said.
Come with me. It was the first thing he’d ever said to her, back at General Basa’s dungeon. At that time, his motivations for wanting to protect her had been as mysterious and nebulous as they were now. Some instinct has risen from deep inside him, nagging him to lend his strength to her shivering body and keep her from coming to harm.