She wilted. And fell asleep.
*
She slept on and off for three days.
During that time, Helen visited frequently with food. Marcus’s wives, led by the indomitable Kayala, visited, Marcus in tow. It was always funny to see Marcus surrounded by his wives; he was like a kitten. She was never stupid enough to say this in his hearing, though. Moran visited while Marcus was present, chatted amicably with his wives and gave Kaylin a very, very thorough medical inspection. She treated the burn on Kaylin’s cheek, as well.
Since she was not actually in the infirmary when she did this, Kaylin had hopes that her demeanor would be substantially different. Clearly, exhaustion had made her stupid. Moran told Kaylin—and Helen—in no uncertain terms what she expected of Kaylin’s convalescence. Kaylin didn’t pay much attention to most of it, but Helen certainly did, and Kaylin tried to remember that she had wanted Moran to live here.
Caitlin visited, with food. And flowers for Helen, just because. The Hawklord did not visit. The Arkon did not visit, either, but that was probably for the best.
Kattea, drawn and silent, her expression the forced smile of a child who has nowhere else to go and knows it, visited; she came in with Helen and left with her. Helen informed Kaylin that Kattea would be staying temporarily. Well, technically, Helen asked if Kattea could stay. But she asked in a tone of voice that made it clear there was only one acceptable answer.
Since it was the answer Kaylin would have given regardless, this was fine. Kattea, however, was not—and Kaylin could not force herself to stay awake for long enough to do anything about it. She did ask Kattea about Gilbert, heard Helen’s very sharp intake of breath and let the matter drop.
Bellusdeo came by with, of all people, Sanabalis—who was not dead, but looked almost as if death would be a mercy, his color was so bad. Bellusdeo’s eyes were a shade of orange that shifted perceptibly to gold when she saw Kaylin. “This is the first time you’ve been awake while we’ve been here,” she said, by way of explanation.
Kaylin deliberately didn’t ask her about the Emperor. She did ask about the Arkon, and both of the two visitors winced.
“Lannagaros is not, perhaps, in the most social of moods,” Bellusdeo said. “I am sure he will recover. Lord Diarmat inquires after your health.” Her smile was slightly edged as she added, “His concern almost appeared to be genuine.”
“He just wants us back in class.”
“Of course.”
*
Severn didn’t visit, and that was worse.
*
On the morning of the fourth day, she had a visitor she hadn’t expected.
You should have, he said, standing on the steps leading to the front door.
Yes. Maybe she should have. The mark on her cheek was no longer quite as puffy and sore. All the rest of the pain caused by magic faded when the magic itself did. Trust Nightshade to be an exception.
She was more or less on her feet. Although Marcus had told her not to come into the office for a week—with pay, even—she was restless, and therefore chose to dress for work. If work clothing wasn’t exactly lounge-around-at home clothing, she took comfort in it anyway. And it wasn’t as if Helen was going to judge it.
“I should hope not.” Helen’s voice was not accompanied by her Avatar.
I do not think I will be allowed entry without your direct intervention. Which made it pretty clear where Helen’s physical representation actually was. Kaylin moved, crossing the floor and the halls to reach the stairs almost before she took the time to think. The small dragon flew from the left side of the pillow—his de facto perch for much of Kaylin’s convalescence—to her shoulder; he wrapped his tail lightly around her neck.
Squawk.
Her home was not a place she’d ever expected to see the fieflord. Home wasn’t a place she’d ever intended to invite him. But she didn’t want Helen to reduce him to ash or send him to another dimension, either. They’d gone through a lot to actually bring him home.
Which was not, of course, his experience of events. He had lost a month to the defense mechanisms of Castle Nightshade. He had not lost decades—if, indeed, Gilbert’s approximation of the time they had spent together had been accurate—in the heart of Ravellon. Whatever had happened in some future, it was gone; it was in the past. And that was ironic.
She wondered if that was what had happened to Gilbert, but shook her head as she looked down the stairs. If Gilbert was gone because things had been changed, Kattea wouldn’t be here. And Kattea was here, waiting for Gilbert with increasing impatience—which everyone expected—and diminishing hope. Which was heartbreaking.
Helen was standing in the doorway. The door was open, but Helen hadn’t actually moved aside to allow Nightshade entrance. Kaylin could see her back. She could see the delicate lines of shoulders that were not quite elderly; she could see the stiff, straight fall of Helen’s arms.
“Helen.”