I don't know how long my bed has safely swaddled me, but I'm not leaving—ever. I'm sitting up only because Albína will drag me to the floor if I don't cooperate. She makes me change my pajamas every day, too. She tried to get me to wear leggings and a sweater, but I won that battle. Right now, I'm sitting on the edge of my bed with a robe over my nightgown because Kyrbast is here.
He's examining what was once the charred mess on the side of my head. It's cleaned up well. He's happy with the growth of my little nub of an ear. It itches like crazy. I've been told not to scratch it. Easier said than done. He's concerned about the progress of my hair because the entire side of my head is bald. Gone is the bumpy mass of pink and purple scar tissue, leaving in its place a smooth, shiny surface where no hair will grow.
Kyrbast wants to make some adjustments to my treatment. He'll have to discuss it with Albína because I don't care and won't do it unless she forces me, which she will. He moves on to removing the last of the bandages around my hand and wrist. It took some serious magic to fix it properly. He says that it broke again so easily because Ziras didn't do it right the first time. It's fine now. Physically, I feel great. Emotionally, I feel nothing.
I can't leave the shield of safe blankets and consoling pillows. Fortunately, I don't have to because after Kybast, Jonah comes to me. We don't talk. He sits on the sofa while I listen to him breathe. His eyes used to shine so brightly he lit up the entire room. Now the light barely reaches the floor. The light went out of my eyes too.
At some point he leaves, but he'll return tomorrow. Albína makes me eat. She doesn't pretend to be happy anymore. I've worn her down. She shouldn't be waiting on me anyway. I should be left to die in this bed.
The only visitor I enjoy is Kyrbast. He tries to be sensitive, but it's not in his nature. He's too absorbed in his work. He enjoys rebuilding my ear, but he doesn't talk about it. Instead, he's explaining a potion that will make an archery bow stronger, or have better sighting, or something. It has to do with shooting an arrow and nothing to do with me, or cheering me up, or forgiving myself, so I tolerate his conversations.
Drink the tea, fall asleep, repeat, but not today. Jonah's taking me out of the castle. I don't want to go. I remember the day I came back. Unlike the first day, there was no parade. It was in the wee hours of the morning on the back of a foven-fij, the butterfly mount the elves prefer, with a guard I've never seen before.
Cromsmead was sunny and colorful, and everything was how I left it. Cypus Turehart greeted us on the steps, the same as when I first met him, only this time he wouldn't make eye contact with me. I wasn't taken to the hospital like everyone else. I was placed under guard in my room.
Do the guards keep me in or others out? I don't care either way. Lenox hasn't returned. He's not in Wiltonshire either. Every time I look at my balcony, my heart cracks. Albína keeps the curtains closed so I won't stare at the sky, waiting. I prefer the dark anyway. Unfortunately, she added a sunlight feature to my ceiling; I'm treated to sunrise and set every day.
For the same reason I would've loved this feature before, I hate it now. It tracks time. I don't need to know when night begins or when another day is upon me. I want to sleep. I lie in my bed every night and watch the sunrise as the Lanuus birds emerge from the clouds. I wish I'd never see another one of those stupid sunrises.
"Let's go," Albína says pleasantly, at least she's not pretending to smile.
I sit up. Did I fall asleep? I follow her into the bathroom. If I don't take a bath, she'll wash me in bed. She only had to do that once before I became the most compliant of patients.
Jonah arrives at his usual time, but he doesn't go to the sofa. He holds out his elbow in the elfin tradition. I step past him out the door and ignore the arm he offered. He gives me a sheepish smile as he steps up next to me. I don't acknowledge him. I keep my head down and listen to my shoes echo down the corridor.
