Chapter XIII

The next few days Melisende spent wandering around the Keep, trying to get her strength back. Every time she tried to lift her injured arm the pain would cause her to lower it right back. But each time she tried, it would rise a little higher than the last. So she pushed herself hard, though Anders warned her not to.

She found her swords, polished and sharpened in the armory, and attempted to practice with them. Her injuries made that too painful at first. She fought through the pain, but ended up using only one sword with her good arm to hack at a post, imagining it to be the assassin who did this to her.

Samuel, or Sammy as he liked to be called, continued to follow her around. She liked the boy, but his constant presence, coupled with her growing frustration at her present uselessness caused her to become annoyed with him. Her patience was wearing thin. She couldn't teach him anything and so more often than not she dumped him onto Nathaniel before she snapped.

Melisende would watch Nathaniel patiently show Sammy how to use a bow. These little lessons would return her good mood and she often joined in. Using a bow was not as painful as lifting a sword. She learned a lot about Nathaniel at these moments and she found herself falling for him. This only frustrated her even further, as she didn't know what to do about her feelings and despite what Anders had told her, she didn't believe that Nathaniel "had a thing" for her. Sure, he had saved her life and yes, they were spending more and more time together and not arguing like in the beginning, but that didn't mean he felt something for her. Maker, it was so easy to tell with Alistair, she thought. Nathaniel was so damn stoic she couldn't tell what he thought.

…

It had been over two weeks since Melisende had awakened and since Tristan and the others had left. The three Wardens left behind were a little worried, for they didn't think finding Kristoff would take this long, but they figured that they had probably just continued following the missing Warden's trail.

Melisende was slowly healing, but she still was not her normal self. She was getting terribly impatient and restless.

One morning, she attempted to practice with two swords, but ended up dropping one nearly onto her feet. She grunted loudly in frustration. Sammy went over to pick up the sword for her, but she stopped him.

"No." she said. She could feel the lava of emotions bubbling up inside of her. It was ready to burst and she exploded into a fit of rage. Poor little Sammy was the only one around to fall victim to the flow.

"Get away!" she yelled at Sammy. He cowered in fear, confused at Melisende's sudden change in mood. "Isn't it about time you go home?"

Sammy shrugged.

"Well go! Get out! I don't need a lapdog!" she yelled. Sammy stood rooted to the ground until Melisende kicked at the dirt in front of him, sending mud into his face. Sammy stumbled backwards then got up and ran off. Melisende picked up her swords and threw them in disgust at the wall. They hit it with a clang and fell to the ground. Melisende let out a scream of anger and then ran inside the Keep where she irately stalked through the halls, the servants scurrying out of her path, until she reached her room. She flung herself onto her bed and proceeded to cry.

She lay in bed all day and night, desperate for a drink to drive herself into oblivion, but desperate also to will herself not to resort to the bottle. It was hard, and though her hands seemed to have a will of their own, shaking, reaching out as if to grasp a jug of ale, she surrendered in the end – to a restless sleep.