Anew- Book 2

Chapter 32

Evadon has been pacing the room for a worrying amount of time. When she started, everyone in the house was sitting at the table or at the kitchenette, but now it's just Sheyric and the guards remaining. They're all in bed by now, and he's on the brink of falling asleep sitting up. The calming patter of rain on the roof doesn't help/

"We'd have to transport him to Raha in the car he's in now," she suddenly says, sounding overly loud. Sheyric flinches and lets out a grunt in agreement.

"I'll write that decree to Florithe tonight and send it out with you, Clotine," she nods to her guard, who bows. "And I'll have to make another for when Kazor is brought to Raha. I was thinking you can drive him there with one of my extra drivers, Sito."

The burly guard clears his throat. "With all due respect your Majesty, you need guards wherever you go," he says. "We're the only ones here."

She crosses her arms. "The people here are not going to attack me. Unlike some places, I seem to be liked here. Right Sheyric?"

"Right," he says, rubbing his eyes. "You're going to be writing two formal decrees tonight? I'm almost certain it's past midnight."

"I can get it done."

"Your Majesty," Sito growls in warning.

She laughs humorlessly and starts walking to her room. Sheyric sighs and takes the opportunity to go to bed, stalking around the entrance of her room and opening the door to his silently. To his surprise, the oil lamp on the bedside table is on and warmly illuminating the space. Glennic, who's sitting in bed with one of his shirts in hand, looks up. He appears to be sewing something on it.

"Well hello there," the stablehand chirps. "Is the queen still losing it?"

Sheyric shrugs and jumps onto the mattress near him, making the bedframe creak and bounce. "She's writing documents now. What are you doing?"

He sighs and puts down the needle he just started working with again. The shirt is held down by his knee, in place of another hand holding it in place. "I know you'd just scold me but... what's the point to having a useless arm? It's worse than not having one at all."

Sheyric immediately knows what he means, and his heart sinks at the thought of it. "You want it amputated, don't you?"

"Well... yes? And no?"
The noble snatches up the shirt from under him and unfurls it to look at. The left sleeve is cut off at the shoulder and is closed at the hole with brown thread, the needle attached to it dangling down. His expression must be concerning enough because Glennic looks away.

"I know it's stupid," he says. "But it's been like this for a while now, and it should've gotten better. At this point, it's just a deadweight making me feel clunky and lopsided... oh, don't look at me like that, it looks like you're going to kill me for this."

Sheyric puts down the shirt and sighs, trying to soften his expression. "Give it more time. What's worse; cutting off an arm that might have the potential to work again one day or living with paralysis you're already used to for a bit longer?"

"But I'm not used to it!" he exclaims. "Just barely! Every day I'm still struggling with one thing or another. The worst part is being dependant on someone else to do something as simple and opening a jar or tying a knot-"

"You were just joking about this earlier today. Is that why you're doing this now?"

"I can joke about the fall, because it was incredibly dumb, but not the aftermath," he mutters. "I got Ceicy to cut off the shirt's sleeve several days before Evadon got here and I've been working on the sewing part every chance I got since then." he pauses. "I get frustrated every time."