Duty-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book II ]

58

Matei woke sometime in the late afternoon to the sound of a Starborn servant stirring in the room. He turned over, looking blearily toward the window and trying to judge the time.

The servant had noticed Matei stirring. "I am sorry, Your Grace; I was bringing lunch in case you grew hungry," he said. He had been arranging something on a tray on the side table. He straightened, then bent into a proper bow.

"Don't apologize," said Matei, sitting up. Hungry was the very last thing he was. He had eaten without relish once or twice in the past two days at Aun's insistence, but he had no appetite; his guilt and his grief had stolen it. "It must be after lunch time, then?"

"Yes, Your Grace, but not long past."

"Thank you. Do not fuss, lad; you may go." Matei slid out of bed. The servant bowed again before leaving the room.

Catching a glance at himself in the mirror, Matei grimaced. He did not care overmuch for appearances, but the haggard man looking back at him bore more a resemblance to the prisoner he'd once been than the sovereign he purported to be now. He took a moment to splash his face with cold water from his wash basin, dried it on a soft cloth, and then exchanged his rumpled clothes for a fresh pair of trousers and a clean shirt, foregoing the cravat and jacket that were the typical finishing touches on any high-born man's attire in the Holy City.

Once he had washed and dressed, Matei hastened into the hall without a second glance for the tray the servant had brought him. It was just a short walk to Mhera's chambers. Mhera had taken that very walk a dozen times before, and he'd taken it himself a dozen others; they had not slept in the same bed since the night they had married. Still, the knowledge did not console him, and he cursed himself for his stupidity two nights before, allowing her to walk back to her room without an escort.

When he arrived, he hesitated before the door, his heart in his throat. Mhera had not woken since she'd slipped into unconsciousness that night, and there was a small, distant part of him that feared she never would.

Before he could decide to knock, Eovin opened the door and stepped out. He looked startled to see Matei there, but greeted him with a smile. "Good afternoon," he said.

"Good afternoon," Matei replied. "How is she?"

"She's awake, Matei," replied Eovin, "And I think she would welcome a visit from you."

Matei pushed past Eovin through the door the lorekeeper had left ajar, his heart in his throat, too urgent to spare Eovin a word of goodbye.

The afternoon sunlight filtered into the windows of Mhera's bedchamber, lending a cheerful light to the room. Matei saw Aun sitting in a comfortable chair near that window, a cup of tea in her hand. She glanced at him when he entered and smiled, nodding her head. As one, Aun and Matei looked toward Mhera, who lay reposing on the bed, her eyes closed.

She was pale, still, but the gentle rise and fall of her breast revealed to Matei that she lived. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully, as if she had not endured the hardships of two nights past.

On quiet feet, Matei moved across the room toward Mhera's bed. He slid into the chair at her bedside and reached out to touch her hand.

"You did not let me rest long, Master Eovin," whispered Mhera. Her eyelids fluttered open, and, when she met Matei's eye, a smile lit up her tired face. Her eyes were glassy with tears. "Matei."

"Not too much a disappointment, I hope," he said softly, returning her smile. He slid his other hand beneath hers, folding her fingers into his. They were cold. "How are you feeling, dear heart?"