Mercy & Fire

21. A Stolen Little Princess

Roselena

"Really now, Rosie, you know better." His voice was gentle but scolding as he plucked grass and dirt out of the deep cut on my knee. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks, and I kept hiccupping as if he had beaten me without reason when, really, it was all my fault.

"I'm sorry, papa." I choked out as my chest quivered.

He had a serious look on his face, and it didn't go away even when he looked at me. Truthfully, I was never too afraid of my father. He never punished me with a heavy hand; however, he had the choice of telling my mother or not, and I really, really hoped that he wouldn't tell her. If she found out I had snuck out to play when I should have been home, I would be a dead fish in the river.

He pushed my unruly hair out of my face, "I can't keep this a secret from your mother, and I can't magically make your knee look new again."

My chin began to wobble again, and he sighed.

"We can tell mama together. I was supposed to be watching you anyway." He said it wearily with a hint of guilt.

That was why I wasn't afraid of him. He was always too soft to be really angry at me, and often, he wound up comforting me.

I suddenly wished I had just busted my kneecap on a rock again rather than being stabbed by a knife in my own hand. At the time, I thought his words weren't much of a consolation since mother gave us both the same searing lecture, but now... I longed to have my father comfort me. I would even take the lecture.

My whole body felt weak and clammy as if I'd been fighting a fever, and when I tried to open my eyes, I found that I couldn't. I could only feel the dull, bruising pain radiating from my side to my back, ribs, and hips. Only when I felt a particularly sharp pang shoot up to my neck did I make a small groaning noise.

A surprised gasp prefaced the sound of shuffling and the feeling of a hand pressing against my forehead.

"Mama, I think her fever's finally letting up." The woman gasped again and something landed on my damp upper lip. "Oh, thank god! She's still breathing. I thought she was dead for a second there."

"Shush, Bethany."

I made another, louder groaning sound.

"We should send word to the Duke. She should be able to make the trip in a week's time if she continues to recover like this."

Bethany made a dissatisfied noise, "The whole city is in chaos. I don't know if traveling is the best idea..."

"It's not up to us, is it?"

There was a second of silence, and Bethany sounded a bit upset. "Mama, you knew her mother well. Aren't you the most qualified person to look after her? Can't you go with her?"

More silence.

"Who knows what they'll do to her..." Bethany murmured.

Her words made my heart rate pick up, and anxiety began to make my empty stomach turn. Who were they going to send me to?

"Don't be ridiculous. Go send word while I redress her wound. Now."

I felt Katar lift the covers off of me, making me feel cooler. A rag gently dragged over my damp skin, soaking up some of the gathered sweat. Then Katar began messing with something near my wound. Immediately, my eyes opened wide, and my hands moved weakly to push hers without any real success. Tears sprung to the corners of my eyes, and I tried to move away despite the dull ache.

Katar looked exhausted as she looked down at me. "Calm down."

Her voice was gentle and commanding but my chin wobbled anyway. "It hurts."