Evanlyn awoke with a start. She looked around, disoriented: she was on a bed (okay, bed. Bed is a good sign, right?) in an unfamiliar room. As rooms went, it wasn't bad. The walls were wood-paneled, as was the floor. The grey light of morning filtered in through a small window to her left, illuminating a small wooden bedside table and plain chest of drawers. But her pleasant, if quaint, surroundings did nothing to quell the fear that raced through her veins as she realized she had no memory of getting here.
Sitting up, she tried to assess the situation. She felt relatively well-rested but her skin and hair were caked with grime – waitaminute. Where were her clothes? In place of the leggings and tunic she had worn since Hallasholm, she now wore a terrycloth robe. What had happened? Evanlyn heaved a mental sigh. If she'd gotten herself kidnapped again, Will wouldn't be in any shape to rescue her. The first tinges of panic began to creep into her mind. Where was Will?
Evanlyn fought the urge to curl up into a ball and cry. She really wanted a bath. She didn't want to have to deal with this. She wanted to go home and sleep in her own bed and –
Before her inner tirade could really get started, Evanlyn was interrupted by a polite knock on the door. She whirled around in surprise, feeling her heart leap into her throat.
"Wh-who is it?" she stammered, clutching her robe tighter about her body.
"It's me. Um. May I come in?" asked a distinctly familiar voice. The events of the previous night began to come back to her as the door inched open to reveal…
"Horace!" Evanlyn shrieked and threw herself bodily at the startled young man, engulfing him in a hug. "I missed you so much! What are you doing here? Last night – how long have I been asleep? And that man – Halt – I thought it was all a dream – and what happened to my clothes?"
Horace couldn't help the furious blush that crawled over his cheeks at her last question. But he did his best to answer. "I'm here with Halt – it's a long story, really. You've been asleep since you and – you came in last night. And, um. Paüla and – I mean, Paüla has your clothes."
Evanlyn raised an eyebrow in a formidable impression of Halt. "Paüla being…?"
"The innkeeper. Stout blonde woman, likes to hit people over the head sometimes." Horace had no idea where the conversation was going, but judging by the odd look in Evanlyn's eyes, it wasn't going anywhere good. He dropped his gaze to the floor.
There came a strange choking noise. Horace whipped his head up to stare at Evanlyn. Her face was beet-red and scrunched up, and her shoulders were shaking with the effort of controlling herself. Eventually, however, she could do so no longer and her laughter bust forth in a helpless gale. Stunned for a moment by the unexpectedness of it all, Horace recovered quickly and he could not help but join in. Their infectious laughter filled the hallway and all the miserable tensions of the last months melted away and in their place came sweet, sweet joy and relief.
"Oh, Horace," Evanlyn gasped once she could breathe again, "thank you. I really needed that."
"Yeah," agreed Horace, blue eyes alight with happiness. "I'm glad you're back."
"Me too," Evanlyn smiled up at him and Horace couldn't help but grin back.
"I'm also starving," she continued playfully, though the sharpness of her cheekbones belied her jest. "Does Paüla also serve food?"
* * *
Evanlyn felt much more herself after a long bath and the sampling of Paüla's scrumptious Korinthenbrötchen.
"Right," she said, looking around with a determined air. And then she asked the question Horace had been dreading from the very start.
"Where's Will?"
* * *
Will, as it turned out, was still sleeping deeply, oblivious to the world. Not so for Halt, who had not ceased his vigil at Will's bedside the entire night and did not plan on doing so for hours yet. The currant buns Paüla had brought for him earlier that morning now lay cold and half-eaten on the tray, all but forgotten as the Ranger continued his self-castigation, mindless of anything save getting Will back.
Halt was so lost in thought that he almost didn't register the creak of the door as it opened, admitting a very pale Horace and a very frustrated-looking Evanlyn. Not a sound was made as the three parties stared at each other as if caught in a tableau, eyeing each other warily as if to say who will go first?
Evanlyn broke the strained silence, letting out an involuntary gasp of shock as her eyes adjusted to the gloom and she caught sight of the prone figure buried under the blankets – Will. She started towards him but was quickly blocked by Halt as he stood up from his chair. The grizzled Ranger was a commanding presence, though Evanlyn was shocked to note that, up close, Halt's eyes were level with her own.
"You must be Evanlyn," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. He gave her a curt nod, though Evanlyn knew he knew perfectly well who she was – he had told Horace, after all. "Why are you here?"
The subtle edge in his voice threw Evanlyn off guard for a moment, but she quickly recovered herself, answering with the grace and poise that befitted her station. "I'm here to see Will."
If Halt was surprised by such an authoritative reply, he made no sign of it. Horace, however, watching the exchange, was impressed – not many people could have replied so smoothly and calmly to the prickly Ranger's tone.
And yet just as suddenly as Halt's defensiveness had come, it was gone. His face seemed to grow more haggard and his shoulders slumped as all the fight went out of him. He cast a glance back at the figure on the bed before replying.
"He's… he's still sleeping." He looked at Evanlyn then, and the raw, unbridled pain in his dark eyes made something tighten in her own throat. She instantly regretted any misgivings she'd had about Halt before meeting him. Clearly, she and Horace were not the only ones who cared about Will.
"He'll be fine," she murmured, though whom she was trying to reassure, she didn't know.
