“I imagine it feels about as bad as it looks. I had my physician check on you the first night, and he said nothing appeared broken. Your ribs are quite bruised, though, and will be uncomfortable for some time.”
Arista blinked. Her eyelids were suddenly so heavy. It wouldn’t hurt to close them, just for a minute, would it? Wild pulled the quilt up around her neck and patted her head as if she were a child.
“Rest now, my dear. There will be plenty of time to discuss other matters when you’ve recovered.” Wild followed Justine out of the room, and the door closed. The unmistakable click of a lock registered somewhere in the fog inside her head, but Arista barely had time to acknowledge it before the darkness swept her under again.
When she awoke once more her head had finally cleared. Night sat heavy outside the window now, and from somewhere below her, the sounds of music and laughter drifted through the floor. A lantern flickered from across the room, casting the room in soft light. The warm glow of a fire in the hearth made the room’s temperature quite comfortable. As one used to waking up in a cold, dark room, it took Arista a moment to get her bearings and remember the conversation with Wild.
Gingerly she sat up, cradling her bruised ribs. The pain was at least manageable now. Her legs wobbled when she stood, but they held her upright. A demure white nightgown hung to her ankles, buttoned just under her neck. Who had put this on her? Heat burned her cheeks. Hopefully the girl she saw earlier.
The room was small but well furnished. A wardrobe sat in one corner, and next to it a dressing table. The floor was wood, but a colorful rug filled most of the room, keeping her bare feet warm. It was by far the nicest place she’d ever slept, but she still didn’t understand how she’d gotten there. She could not separate dream from reality.
Arista moved to the window and pulled the curtain back. Her window looked out onto a small garden three stories below. It was too dark to make out anything that might tell her where she was. Reluctantly, she let the lace fall back into place. There were no answers in the dark.
A soft click sounded behind her. Arista swung around and reached for her knife instinctively. It wasn’t there. She had just enough time to reach the side of the bed before the door swung open. She grabbed the quilt and threw it around her shoulders, just as a maid entered. She was not the same girl as before. This one looked much younger, and had on a simple blue gown with an apron over the front. Wild came in right behind her.
“So glad to see you awake, my dear.” He met Arista’s stare openly, then directed the girl to set her tray on the table next to the bed. The girl curtsied, not meeting their eyes, then stood silently against the wall.
Arista tugged the quilt tighter around her body. “Where are my clothes?” Her voice came out low and raspy. She swallowed against the rawness still in her throat. Wild poured water from a new crystal pitcher and handed it to her. With shaking fingers, she took it and downed the contents in two mouthfuls.
“Your dress was quite ruined from the smoke, so I took the liberty of having one of the girls—about your size—find something appropriate for you to wear. It’s in the wardrobe when you’re ready.” The glass wobbled as she handed it back to Wild, and he gestured for her to sit. She sank to the edge of the bed gratefully. She hated appearing weak, but Wild made no mention of her state. For that she gave silent thanks.
“I’ve brought you some things to eat. I didn’t know your preferences, so I had the cook include a few choices. Your weapon is there, next to the tray.” Arista glanced to where he pointed. Her knife handle poked out from behind the tray, cleaned of Bones’s blood. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. If she were a prisoner, he would have hidden it away.
“What happened? How did I get here?” she asked again.
“What do you remember?” he asked, instead of answering her question.
An image popped into her head. “A fire?” Wild nodded. At his confirmation, more images rushed to fill her head, as if the first had opened a door for the rest. The room swam. Bones. His fists. The dark room. And, oh God, the fire.
Becky.
“Where is Becky? Is she…” Arista couldn’t say the word. She now remembered the cold, limp feel of Becky’s hand as she’d held it in the final moments before everything disappeared.
“Your friend is quite safe, though we weren’t sure for a few days whether she would regain consciousness or not. She didn’t have the fever you did. The physician did what he could, tended to her wounds, but left the rest up to the girl. She woke yesterday.”
Fever? Days? In her own mind, only a day at most had passed. “How long have we been here?”
“Four days.”
No matter how hard she tried, Arista could not reconcile that over half a week had passed. “How did you find me? You were the one who saved me?” Vague dreamlike recollections filtered in and out of her mind. Wild had been there at one point. Only it had not been a dream at all.