Colvin smiled and patted her hand. “His heart did fail him and he collapsed at the gate, but he is still alive. And unconscious. Every time we try to Gift him with healing, the Medium forbids us to utter the words. His steward has not left his side.”
Lia was filled with relief and gratitude. “In my mind, I saw him fall. I am so pleased…so pleased we came in time.”
“Barely in time, Lia. Only barely. If Scarseth had not carried you to the Leering when he did, then the Queen Dowager would have won. For that reason alone I did not kill him, even though he stabbed you. But we do not know what to do with him. He does not want to be with the few survivors of the flood but we have no other confinement available. Nor do I trust giving him back his power of speech. He knows too much…especially about you. He was under the Queen Dowager’s thrall, there is no mistaking it. Demont thinks the Aldermaston should decide what to do with him after he awakens.”
Lia nodded. She felt a mixture of revulsion and compassion for the man who had killed her. What a contradiction. He stabbed her and then carried her to the Leering. She would not have been able to summon the defenses without his help. And she remembered his thoughts – his wild and pleading thoughts to help free him from the Queen’s grasp.
There was a gentle knock on the door. Colvin rose and went to it and unlocked the crossbar. In walked Pasqua with a tray of food as well as Siara, carrying a bundle of fresh linen bandages and a dish of powdered woad.
“She is awake?” Pasqua said suddenly, her voice rising. “And why did not you bother to tell us, you unthinking clod? She must be famished. Famished! I brought some broth for her and something for you to eat, but now I think I will not let you have a bite of it since you did not come and get me right away. Do not just stand there, young man, take the tray! I hope the soup sloshes on you.” She shoved it into Colvin’s hand and hobbled over to the bed where Lia winced with pain, expecting a hug that would hurt.
“Be gentle,” Colvin warned, carrying the tray over.
Pasqua took Lia’s good hand with both of hers. “Look at you, child.” She swept part of her hair back and caressed her cheek. “When that filthy man carried you up the hill, you looked a corpse though you were breathing. So much blood and injury. I do not think I can bear to let you out of my sight again, hunter or no. Are you hungry? Can I feed you?”
“Just the broth,” Siara said. “Anything stronger she may not be able to handle. Broth first. How is your pain, Lia? Do you need more valerianum to help you sleep?”
Lia shook her head violently. “No, I do not want to sleep.” She looked at Colvin, her heart aching with the thought of him leaving with Ellowyn in the morning.
“You need rest,” Siara said. “But even more, you need friends with you. Should we move you to the kitchen? There are many who want to see you.”
Lia wanted to see everyone, but she also wanted to be alone with Colvin. Maybe her conflict showed on her face, for she saw him approach with the tray and set it down. “I am not leaving your side until dawn.” He touched Pasqua’s shoulder deferentially. “With your permission of course.”
Pasqua looked up at him grudgingly and then nodded.
Lia sighed, her thoughts painful. She nodded at him as well.
Colvin pulled away the coverlet and gently scooped Lia into his arms. Even the slow and tender motion made her wince with pain, but she clenched her jaw to keep from crying out and tried to breathe through her nose as he started to walk. The kitchen was a short distance and Siara Healer led the way to pull open the doors while Pasqua followed with the tray. Lia rested her head against Colvin’s cheek as he tried not to jostle her. The pale sky was turning black outside, the smell of the sea hinted in the air. There were knight-mastons walking the grounds with torches, patrolling the borders, keeping them safe. A feeling of protection had settled over the Abbey. All was calm and quiet.
The smell of the kitchen greeted her and she blinked with the light and the rush of voices and sounds. Pasqua’s bed had been installed beneath the awning of the loft and barrels and chests and baskets had been relocated elsewhere in the room. She saw Pen-Ilyn sitting on a bucket with a tray of sambocade in one hand, shoveling the dessert into his mouth like a starving soul. He smiled and nodded at her, hurrying even faster now that Pasqua had returned. Colvin crossed the tiles to the bed and helped set her down after Sowe turned the sheet and stacked up the pillows.
Sowe took her hand, smiling warmly and then kissed her. Edmon was her shadow. His face was drawn and pale. He had the look of a slight fever about him and he moved with a visible wince.
“I am surprised to see you on your feet so soon, Edmon,” Lia told him, giving him a look of compassion.