“You have to get down—and keep down—some bone regrowth this time.”
This time? Vhalla was so confused and so tired, she closed her eyes. Sleep was much easier she realized. All this could go away if she closed her eyes and pretended to no longer exist.
“No, Vhalla stay here.”
“How...?” She could barely manage one syllable words, but he seemed to understand.
“I said don’t talk.” He shot her a cold gray glare. “Prince Aldrik brought you here after you awakened.”
She shook her head. Awakened?
Vhalla heard a commotion behind him and struggled to open her eyes again. Larel had returned, apparently not ashamed in the slightest, with a bucket and mop. It was actually Vhalla who felt shamed when the woman began to clean up her spew that puddled on the floor.
“Larel, the blue vial,” Minister Victor demanded. She nodded obediently and scampered from the room. Vhalla permitted herself darkness again. “No, Vhalla, you have to stay awake now.” The man shook her shoulders slightly, where only a small touch sent waves of pain down to her toes. She whimpered in protest. “Vhalla.” His voice was sharp—demanding, and the stern tone reminded her just enough of another man’s voice that she wanted to throw up all over again.
But it did the trick, and Vhalla obliged him, opening her eyes slightly. She had tunnel vision and didn’t even see the female sorcerer passing the vial to the man silently. He turned and slipped his arm under Vhalla’s shoulders, propping her up. Vhalla shook her head violently, remembering the last time she sat. Her brain only rattled around in her skull, threatening to make the blackness at the edge of her eyes all-consuming.
“Stop, stop, stop,” the minister ordered, holding her close to him with one arm and pressing the vial to her mouth with the other. She didn’t want to drink, she wanted to sleep. However, his insistence yielded her eventual surrender, and Vhalla gulped down the syrupy liquid with a small cough. It flowed through her like fire and she heard someone screaming as the minister threw the vial to the floor with a shattering noise and took her in his full embrace. It wasn’t until she was cognizant of thrashing against the firm arms holding her that she realized the screaming was coming from her own mouth.
The agonizing cries gave way to eventual sobs as the burning slowly passed and she went limp, relying entirely on the support of the man whom she wanted to hate. Vhalla cast aside all decency and she simply wept against his chest. Somewhere he was talking; she could hear and feel it.
“—too susceptible to magic now. We tried—help you be more comfortable. But your—magical passages are too—and broken to—handle any more being—on you.” She hated magic, her original opinion was reaffirmed anew as her mind began to level from the potion. “Vhalla -ten, you had two broken ribs - - left side and the right side of your -cage was shattered. Your hands are a wreck. Your left shoulder was shattered, and your right was dislocated. Your spine was all out of alignment, and your hips were fractured along with one of your legs.” Vhalla laughed into his chest with an insane rasp.
“You will be fine,” he assured her gently. Now he was the insane one. “But since we are healing almost exclusively with non-magical clerical potions and salves, it’ll take some time.” The Western woman had shifted Vhalla’s pillows so she could sit in a more upright position and the man gently returned her to them, taking a green bottle. “This one is next; it shouldn’t hurt.”
True to his word the chalky liquid went through her cracked lips and caused no immediate discernible change in her overall state.
“Water,” she rasped softly and he nodded. He poured a small cup from a clay pitcher on the bedside table. The minister brought this to her lips also and held it there so she could take a few long gulps.
“This is not how I wanted to meet you next. Believe me, Vhalla,” he started, placing the cup back and taking a third strangely shaped vial from the silent woman. “I wanted to give you time to come to terms with what is happening. I have seen people run if forced, and I thought you would benefit from distance. When I found out the prince had taken an interest in you, I felt I had little to worry about.”
Vhalla rasped in bitter laughter. She had begun to think that perhaps magic would not be so frightening after all his notes. It was ironic that the man holding her shattered form was the man she should have trusted all along.
“Prince Aldrik didn’t know how to tend to your current...condition,” Minister Victor bit out the last word before pausing. “So he brought you to me three days ago.”