Chapter Fifty-Five
A flash of light pierced the darkness. It drilled deep into Aravis's head, searing her eyes and leaving a trail of fire across her brow. No. Stop. She wailed and turned her face to the cool flagstones.
Flagstones?
She stretched out a hand. It felt like she was moving through water, but her searching fingertips found a smooth stone, the edges of each piece worn down with age. She cracked an eye open. The light, the burning, aching light, was coming from a doorway where a pair of slippers danced restlessly.
Who are you? she tried to say, but the words got caught between her brain and tongue, and all that came from her throat was an unintelligible croak. The slippers turned and hurried away.
Aravis closed her eyes, the effort of blinking too draining, and turned her fleeting attention to her other hand. Her fingers, cold at the tips, were clenched tightly around a piece of wrinkled fabric, and she slowly moved her head to see what it was. The linen was white and clean, and she saw on the floor in the shadows the remnants of broken wax and a few dented candlesticks.
She rested her cheek on the cool stone, her eyes tingling with the respite from the light, and breathed shallowly as her mind slowly ground into action. Nothing made sense. It was impossible for her to be here. But why was it impossible? Where had she been? Wasn't she just—or perhaps—
"Oh, bloody h—Aravis!"
The light was blocked suddenly by a looming shadow, and before Aravis could put two and two together, someone's big, warm hands were grasping her shoulders and turning her gently onto her back. She recoiled in pain and the shadow shushed her, its fingers whispering about her as it took her pulse, parted her hair and touched a bruise, and brushed her bare shin.
"Yes, I think she's all right. Aravis? Can you hear me? Please try opening your eyes."
"The light," she croaked.
There was a whisper.
"I think she said the light. Shut the door and light a candle."
A moment passed before the blazing light faded and blinked out with a snap; there was the sound of a match striking and the soft, gentle light of a small candle filled the darkness. Aravis opened her eyes cautiously, flinching a little at the flickering light. Cor loomed above her. At the sight of his familiar face, tangible relief flooded her body.
"Don't worry," he said soothingly. "We're going to get you back into bed and patched up a bit."
Patched up…?
Her question was answered when he lifted her in his arms and she caught a glimpse of a small reddish-brown stain near the hem of her white nightgown. He carried her across the small room and settled her on a lumpy mattress, fluffing the pillows behind her head and pulling a threadbare sheet and moth-eaten coverlet over her legs.
"Where are we?" she rasped.
Cor poured water from a jug into a shallow bowl and dipped a rag in it before speaking. "Castle Zohra. Do you not remember?"
"Remember what?"
"Your fall? What happened after that?"
She shook her head.
He sighed and pushed the sleeve of her nightgown up and lifted her arm; there was a scrape on her elbow that she did not remember getting, but he gently soaked away the dried blood and blew a cool breath on it before pulling the sleeve back down. "Corin and I were arguing, remember? Inga slipped, and you…" He pushed the coverlet aside and applied the cloth to her bloodied knee. "Fell."
As sharp pain shot up Aravis's leg, hazy memories began to surface in her brain. Snow, a sensation of weightlessness, Inga's panicked whinnying, Cor shouting her name, red snow…her head threatened to burst with the storm of images, and she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.
"No, no, don't try to remember," Cor said hastily, his voice pulling her back just as his hands closed over her wrists. "You need to recover first."
"My head hurts," she whimpered helplessly.
Pulling a ragged old sewing stool next to her bed, he dampened another cloth and placed it on her forehead, pushing her tangled hair back so it wouldn't get wet. "You hit it on something when Inga went down. You're just lucky she didn't roll over you—when I reached you, I was convinced you were dead…you were so pale, and the snow was just—crimson…"
Her hand flew to her head, instinctively feeling for a wound. All that met her searching fingers was the scarring on the back of her head from Gyneth's rock. Cor took her wrist and pulled her hand away again, shaking his head. "It was a small cut, don't worry. It's healing up already. You know how head wounds are."
"How long?"
"Just a few days ago."
"Christmas?"
"Not for another week or two."
"The others?"
"All fine. Bit shaken up by your accident, though."
"Inga?"
"Sprained her left knee and got scraped up, but the swelling's down already. She'll be all right."
"Sidrat?"
"We're told he is away for a few days on business."
"Oh?"
"I know. If we didn't have nowhere else to go, I'd give him a piece of my mind. We've been treated well enough, but look at this room! You're the lady of Anvard, and you've been put in a broom closet."
"Cor," she said gently, turning her palm up. He had absently been tracing circles with his thumb on the sensitive skin of the back of her hand, tickling her to distraction.
He blushed. "Sorry. I'm just—it's such a relief to hear your voice again—and lucid, too, so that's…do you really not remember anything? Getting to Zohra, or since…?"
She shrugged helplessly. "Snow. Voices. I was confused…"
He followed her gaze and saw the remnants of what she now realized had been a table dressing, a linen runner and several pillar candles now laying in a heap on the floor. "Ah, yes. You really were. You must have gotten up and stumbled when I was down at dinner. I'm sorry I let that—"
She waved aside his apology.
"Right. So you don't remember…saying anything to me?"
"Do you?"
"From when I was sick? No, I guess not. Did I say strange things?"
"Didn't know who I was."
He was quiet for a long minute, looking intently at her hand in his as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. "Did it hurt?" he asked finally, refusing to meet her gaze. "When I was sick. When I didn't know you."
She nodded. "Did I not—"
Cor shook his head. "Fought me tooth and nail, actually. See?" He rolled up the sleeve of his tunic to show four red welts, now scabbed over, that curved savagely across the fair skin of his arm. "I couldn't be in the room when you were awake, because you…you were afraid of me, I guess."
A bolt of pain arced behind Aravis's eyes as she let the reality of the situation hit home. It had broken her heart when Cor looked straight at her and didn't recognize her, but still, she knew at a rational level that he'd eventually remember her. But what if he had lashed out at her? Recovered from the fever but never recovered his memory? For some reason, her aching head enhanced her memory of the emotions that had surged through her that night, and she was suddenly reaching out for Cor with a bit of desperation. He must have understood, for he was by her side in a flash, the mattress groaning under their combined weight as he scooped her up and hugged her tight. Aravis hurt, and the strength of his hug only served to exacerbate that pain, but she clung to him out of a sudden fear that he would get up and walk out.
"You're not really afraid of me, are you, Aravis?" he asked worriedly.
She shook her head as vehemently as she could stand it.
He relaxed a little and helped her lay back against her pillows before returning to his stool. "Not that I thought you were, of course. I was completely confident in you…"
A laugh, however brief, escaped her lips, and he looked gratified. "But we couldn't have done it without Elnaz. You didn't mind her at all."
"Eln…"
She then realized that there was another person in the room. It shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did—who was Cor talking to when he found her? Whose slippers did she see in the doorway?—but she was still shocked to see a slight form stir and approach the bed. The girl, who couldn't be more than seventeen, was small and dark, almond-shaped black eyes peeking out from over a green linen veil that matched her flowing gown. Each step she took jingled with the sound of bejeweled ankles and wrists. This, Aravis thought, was a Calormene noblewoman without a doubt.
Then her dusty brain clicked into position, and she gasped. "Elnaz!"
"Cousin," came the girl's voice, barely above a whisper as she slipped alongside the mattress and took Aravis's hand in her own tiny one. She hooked a finger over her veil and tugged it down her face just long enough that she could kiss both of Aravis's cheeks with dry lips, then let it draw up again.
"You're related?" Cor asked bemusedly.
Aravis nodded. "Most noble houses are—Elnaz is an amgheza—minor tarkheena. Province of Ahura Mazda. My…"
"Fourth cousin, by our mothers," Elnaz finished for her, patting her hand. "We spent summers together in Calavar."
"Why are you here?"
"The viscount is my guardian now," Elnaz told her softly. "I am his second cousin once removed."
"What's he like?" she asked.
"The father or the son?"
"There are two?" Cor broke in incredulously.
Elnaz nodded. "The father is bedridden, and the son rules in his stead. Khurshid Hammerhand, his name is."
"What is he like? Khurshid, I mean."
Elnaz's expression was unreadable, and Aravis silently cursed the veil even though she knew that was its purpose. "Young. Old Calormene traditions and honor. Lean and fit, quick of wit."
Cor harrumphed. "Bloody rude, too, if you ask me."
"You'll meet him soon enough," Elnaz murmured. "How do you feel?"
"My head aches," Aravis replied.
"Yes, cousin, and it will for a few days yet, I'm afraid. You injured it dearly. You'll likely have trouble staying awake and walking, too, for a bit."
Aravis's consternation must have showed on her face, for Elnaz patted her hand. "But you're awake now and remembering things properly. We must give thanks to Tash for his mercy."
Like a funny water bird, Elnaz put her hands to her forehead and did the quick little bow of deference to the god Tash that had been such a part of Aravis's childhood. The sight made her uncomfortable, and the ever-present tightness across her back reminded her of what lay beyond the bird-god's jurisdiction.
"You should try to sleep, dear cousin," Elnaz said after her prostrations were complete. "You'll want to be strong and healthy when his lordship returns. A healthy mind makes the cheeks glow."
"I'm not terribly keen on making a good impression," Cor grumbled.
Aravis nodded. "I will. Thank you."
Elnaz squeezed her hand. "I will see you in the morn."
Cor inclined his head to her, and Elnaz bowed herself out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. (Aravis sighed to herself—as if Cor would attempt to deflower her in the condition she was in.)
"She's right, you know," he said, scooting closer to the mattress and replacing the cool cloth on her forehead. "You've got to rest up for Christmas. And no doubt this half-breed will want to throw dancing parties, as well…"
"That's not nice," she said sternly.
"But he is! He's not an Archenlander, by the sound of it."
"I'm not, either."
Cor had no response to this observation, and Aravis was amused by the look on his face. "You should sleep," he said, adding dryly, "Wouldn't want you to lose your spunk, no sir."
She rolled over and tried to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. It was easier said than done, as her whole body felt like one large bruise, but when she was settled, Cor drew the covers up over her shoulder and arranged them so no cold drafts could slip in. "I'm only just down the hall," he said gently, brushing her chin with one finger. "So call if you need me."
She nodded, and as she slipped into sleep, she heard his voice again, but it was far away now and her bed was so very warm.
The next day was a bit better. Aravis woke an hour after noon and forced herself to walk around her tiny room for a few minutes before she felt faint; after she had eaten (Hana and Janey brought her some broth and warm, nutty bread) and brushed out her matted hair, she sat by the window for a few minutes, gazing out over the castle walls and into the snowy forest beyond. Small flakes continued to drift past the glass, accumulating on the sill and the battlements that were visible below. It seemed incredible to her that they had managed to trek through it all even with her being unconscious and (apparently) combative.
The day after that she was allowed to take a bath. Several silent maidservants bustled into her room with buckets of unidentifiable tools and soon had her naked in a chair in front of the fire as they combed the knots out of her hair and scrubbed the dirt from under her fingernails (clucking at the state of her hands) while they waited for the menservants to bring up the tub. She soaked in the hot water for what had only seemed like a minute before they were scrubbing every inch of her body with little stiff-bristled brushes and rinsing strong-smelling soap through her hair.
By the time she was wrapped in a flannel robe and the maidservants had mopped up all the water and whisked away the tool buckets, Aravis was exhausted, and she climbed back into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she registered a touch at her temple some time later, it felt like she was rousing herself from the grave.
Cor laughed. "You look like a newborn kitten, Aravis," he said teasingly, making mewling noises at her as she looked at him with one eye. "All mussed and squinty-eyed." He wrinkled his nose at her.
"Lemme be," she muttered.
"Oh, come, now. Your hair is the right color again and you smell like rosewater. What say you share your loveliness with the others at dinner? They're starting to say it's not fair for me to keep you to myself for so long."
She yawned and rolled over. "I haven't anything to wear."
"We'll be the only ones there—Sidrat isn't back yet. The maidservants washed the frock you were wearing, anyway, so that's clean."
"I'm still so tired, though…"
The mattress sagged as he sat on it. "May I feel your pulse?" he asked. When she nodded, he found her hand and slipped two fingers under her wrist. "It feels normal," he said after a moment. "And you haven't got a fever, or an infection on your hand, and your skin isn't papery. I think you need to get up and about, start getting your strength back."
She had to smile up at him, clucking around her like a mother hen. "Fine. But only because you're making me feel too much like a patient."
"The Aravis I know could cleave a man's skull in two while nursing the influenza if she had to. A simple thump on the head shouldn't keep you from dinner!"
"You think me capable of doing the strangest things," she sighed, sitting up. He got off and helped her detangle herself from the covers. "It won't take long, will it? It's cold."
"Only your room is cold. The rest of the castle is actually quite nice, you know."
She sighed. "I'll believe it when I see it. Now go outside so I can change."
He obliged, and when the door had clicked shut, Aravis pushed herself off the bed, waited for her head to clear, and went over to the dented wardrobe wherein hung two shifts and her only frock. She put both undergarments on to keep warm, and the dress, which had previously been just loose enough to allow no more than one shift, slipped easily over the two. "Cor," she called.
"Can I come in?" came his muffled voice through the door.
"Yes, I need you to do my stays."
"Ah," he said, opening the door and striding over, "the real reason you bought me out of slavery."
"You are my best lady-in-waiting," she replied, shaking her hair over her shoulder.
"How tight?"
"Not very, please."
She turned her back to him and he threaded the leather thongs through the grommets of the gown, then started at the bottom and gently pulled the bodice tight. "Good?" he asked, tying off the top.
"Good," Aravis answered. "You'll make a maidservant yet."
"Whatever milady desires," he responded with a low bow.
"Then hand me that brush, boy," she said imperiously, lowering herself into the nearest chair as exhaustion nearly overwhelmed her again.
He did as he was told, and she began to comb out her tangled hair as he settled in front of the fire like a cat. "I'm counting on you to help me with the Sidrats," he said with a yawn.
"Why me? You are perfectly capable of dealing with an old man and a pock-faced youngster."
"Yes, but the pock-faced youngster is at least part Calormene, right? He might just take a liking to you."
"Are you trying to marry me off again?" she said dryly, beginning to loosely plait her hair.
Cor sat straight up at this and looked at her with horror. "Don't even go there, Aravis," he said seriously.
"What? I'll do what I want, Cor."
"You always do," he said with a sigh. "But please…do you really want to be mistress of Zohra for the rest of your life? Miles away from…Anvard?"
"I can't answer that, as I haven't seen any of Zohra outside of these four walls," she said archly.
"Well, come on, then," Cor replied, clearly relieved to change the subject. "Dinner is probably getting cold."
He helped her out of her chair and led her into the corridor outside her room. It really was warmer, she thought begrudgingly, and it was cheerily lit with the dancing flames of well-placed torches. Every few feet there hung massive tapestries and ancient war relics, giving the stone castle a distinctly antique feel; in addition, there was the occasional kilim, the ornate and expensive nomad needle art that graced the walls of many a Calormene diz. She stopped briefly to touch one and found it clean and well maintained.
"Don't say it," Cor groaned when she turned to him.
"He has good taste," she said anyway with a smile.
Cor rolled his eyes.
They continued through the castle at an easy pace, gazing at the artwork and out the small windows at the whirling snow. "Suppose he never comes back," Cor said wistfully, tracing his name in the fog on the glass. "Then we never have to deal with him and can spend Christmas on our own terms."
"That's terrible," Aravis admonished him.
"Fine. Suppose he gets snowed in wherever he is and doesn't make it back until after we're gone?"
Aravis shrugged. "That wouldn't be too bad, would it? It's nice to be in a castle and not have to worry about making good impressions or any rot of the sort."
"No, it's rather like running one's own household, isn't it? To some extent. The grooms won't let me take Raider out until it stops snowing."
"The knaves."
"But have you seen the grounds?" he asked, taking her hand as they started to descend a flight of smooth stone stairs. "They're marvelous, Aravis, just what I want to do to Anvard someday. There's a whole pavilion for horses, you know, overlooking a fantastic pond…"
"I have always regretted not being able to bring a horse up to the gardens," she replied amiably. His shoulder made a solid crutch as she made her way down the steep staircase. "But they'd just nibble at the plants and get poisoned or whipped by the gardeners. It would be very nice to have a lawn to ride on within sight of the castle."
"When we get back, you should help me lay out the design. You'd have to help me with the mathematics of it, anyway."
"I should like nothing better than to confuse you with numbers."
"I don't mind sacrificing my dignity to please you, milady. Or to ensure a garden that's not wonky."
She had to laugh a bit at the absurd mental image his comment evoked, and he grinned. "What will your father say when he comes to visit and sees our horses grazing in the begonias?"
"'That begonia,'" said Cor, puffing out his chest and imitating Lune's booming voice, "'that heirloom begonia—was centuries old! Tell the palace gardeners that you let Inga masticate their prize begonia and see if they'll accept your "sorry".' But it's all right—we'll blame it on Corin and think nothing more about it."
Aravis laughed until her head hurt and then some, leaning on his arm as her legs went to jelly. Cor looked pleased with himself. "Really," she said breathlessly, "we shouldn't be giggling, it's unseemly!"
"More unseemly than ponies in the peonies?"
"Much more."
"You know, Aravis, I can think of a few things more unseemly than giggling…"
Aravis had a saucy response on the tip of her tongue, but when she saw Corin come around the corner, it fizzled out.
"Oh, just looking for you lot," Corin said. His eyebrows lifted meaningfully, and Aravis realized that she was still clinging to Cor's hand. Or was it the other way around? Either way, she let go and edged away, and Corin pointed awkwardly in the direction he had just come from. "Shall we?"
Cor nodded casually and they trailed along behind him. For some reason, Aravis found it very hard to keep a straight face, and it did not help when, once he'd noticed the look on her face, Cor held his arms out to his side and imitated Corin's characteristic swaggering walk. She barely muffled a giggle.
Corin led them down a narrow corridor and through a low doorway into what appeared to be the castle's main hall. It was large and mostly empty, and Aravis let her gaze draw upwards as the lofty ceiling disappeared in shadow; the only light in the entire massive room was coming from nearby where everyone was sitting, bathed in the warm glow of the many candles that covered the dinner table. They greeted her and the twins with a chorus of cheers, several of the men lifting foaming mugs in the air.
"Ah, the sleeper awakes," came a familiar booming voice.
"Dar!" Aravis exclaimed, laughing as the man swept her off the rushes into a gruff embrace. "I thought you'd gone north again!"
"Aye, I did, dear saucy lady," said Dar, planting a wet kiss on her forehead. "But the cold north is bonechilling and hopeless without your beautiful face by my side!"
"Right then," Cor said lightly, pulling him and Aravis apart with an iron grip. "She's got a head injury, you know…"
"Cor, you didn't tell me Dar was back," Aravis said indignantly.
"You'd have recovered sooner had you known," Dar prodded with a wink.
Cor smiled obligingly and said to her, "He only just got in this morning. Ram thought it would be nice if we made it a surprise."
"Indeed," said Ram, pulling a weathered chair out for her to sit down in. "I knew you'd want to be included in our discussions, but there was no need to rush."
"It does seem so much more like a party now," she said agreeably as she settled down in the seat across from Elnaz, Janey, and Hana, all of whom immediately got her a trencher and loaded it down with cheese and ham and a steaming boiled potato. "You and your men are staying for Christmas, of course?"
"I wouldn't dream of missing it," Dar answered with a bow that almost dunked his neat beard into a bowl of stew. Darrin gave a long-suffering sigh. "But alas, my dearest lady, we must part soon after."
"Oh?" she said sadly, looking at Cor for confirmation.
Cor leaned forward and took a piece of the cheese off her trencher and bit into it, then, apparently approving of it, cut a large hunk off the block and ate a few bites before answering. "We're going to head west towards Father's hunting lodge when the snows clear a bit. Dar and his men will head back northeast."
"More lordlings needing supervision?" Aravis asked Dar sympathetically.
"You might say that," he answered with a wink.
"Your father's 'untin' lodge?" came a high voice. "Oooh, what's 'at like?"
Aravis had forgotten that Ragna existed, and as Cor turned to tell her about the beautiful stone manor high up in the southern mountains, dusted with snow like a gingerbread house, she lost her appetite. It really wasn't fair, and she knew it—Cor had a responsibility to these women, as he was going to marry one of them, not her, but it still stung just as sharply as it had in the fall. Ragna hadn't made any effort to go buy him from slavery, had she? Hardly. And yet Cor was telling her about the rear turret, a high-up room where only he and she and Corin had played. It wasn't her memory to have.
"You look peaky," Janey said, leaning across the table. "How is your head?"
"Sore," Aravis answered dully. "And I'm awfully tired."
"Sure you are, but your body needs some nourishment. Strong girl like you shouldn't look so angular."
More to get Janey to leave her alone than anything else, Aravis nibbled at a piece of warm bread slathered in strawberry preserves. It really was good, but her stomach cramped after a few moments and she had to remind herself to go slowly—her body was used to salted meat and weak broth.
As Ram regaled them all with an engaging story of the time he climbed a pine tree to fetch an egg from an eagle's eyrie, though, she felt Cor's warm, callused fingers slip gently across her bare hand. Suddenly, it was as if her whole body had come alive, tingling with a million points of heat as her consciousness shrank to the size of her right wrist.
Then she realized he was taking her pulse, and the rest of her body normalized, leaving her feeling flushed and bewildered. "How is your head?" he said in a low voice.
Aravis had to clear her throat once or twice before answering. "I'm getting tired," she said truthfully. He was still holding on to her wrist, and she suddenly wanted to push him away and sprint back to her room, though it dawned on her that she had no idea where it was.
"Can you try to eat some more?"
"What are you, my governess?" she asked with false levity, using the excuse to pull away from him and reach blindly for a piece of food.
He sat quietly next to her as she forced down another piece of jammy bread and drank a goblet of honeyed water. "You're looking flushed," he said when she'd finished. "Let me take your pulse again."
"No," she said, pulling her hand away. "Just tell me where my room is. I want to go to bed."
"I can tell you where it is, but I think it's best if someone goes with you."
"I'll be fine."
"At least let me walk you part of the way."
Aravis was in no mood to argue, so she pushed away from the table and stood.
"Oh, going so soon?" Hana asked sadly.
"Yes," Cor said with a friendly smile, "you've done her in for the night, you noisy lot."
A chorus of sympathetic goodnights followed her as they left the room by the same side door. Once out in the coolness of the corridor, some of the heat left her face, but she still felt oddly unsettled, as if the ground had shifted just a little beneath her feet and everything was now a few inches off.
"I'll ask Sidrat to move you to better chambers when he gets back from gallivanting about," Cor was saying. "You're shoved away in a dusty corner like a dirty mop."
Aravis wanted nothing and everything to do with Cor at the moment. She felt angry and upset, as though he had done something offensive, but she knew that logically, he had done nothing wrong. In fact, he had done everything right—
There was a sharp pain in her leg and the next thing she knew, she was sprawled on the stone floor. Damn chest, she thought instinctively, looking at the piece of furniture she had tripped over.
Cor stooped to help her up. Her palms ached as he turned them over, and she saw with a wince that they were scraped raw, oozing blood and fluid. A moment later and he was wrapping the worst one in a clean handkerchief and tucking the ends in so it would stay put. "Careful where you walk," he told her softly, meeting her gaze with his ice blue one. "Tripping is my job."
She shook her head. "I'm fine," she said brusquely, pulling her hand out of his grasp. "Now, I know that we went down some stairs. Where are they?"
Cor watched her for a moment, then pointed down another corridor. "Just this way."
When they finally reached her room, Cor lingered outside the door as she opened it and slipped inside. "Will you be all right tonight?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered shortly. "I'm just very sleepy."
"If you need anything, I'm just down the hall."
"I know."
"Goodnight, Aravis."
"Goodnight." She shut the door and fumbled for the lock for a moment before she realized that there wasn't one at all. Strange, she thought, perturbed, but then she decided it was probably for the best, and she got into her nightgown and crawled into bed, falling asleep right away.
"Corin, no—"
Aravis's door burst open with a loud thump, startling her out of a deep sleep. As she scrambled to sit up in bed, Corin staggered into her room, pursued closely by Cor, who was sporting a bloodied nose. "What the bloody hell is going on?" she cried, desperately scrubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Aravis," Corin slurred, coming around to her side of the bed and falling to his knees by her mattress. "Aravis, there you are, I were lookin' all over for you…"
"He's dead sloshed," Cor said, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
"I can see that," she answered with consternation. "And he's crying—oh, good heavens, is he always going to be a sad drunk?"
Corin was indeed crying, and he buried his face in her motheaten coverlet. "I'm so sorry," he wailed. "I—I—I—I'm such a terrible excuse for a human being…"
She patted his shaggy golden head. "There, there."
Cor sighed and sank down on the other side of her mattress. "He insists on apologizing for the way he's treated you."
"Oh?" she said, surprised. "Have you two had it out, then?"
"In a manner of speaking. I talked, he drank, and here we are."
"He's apologized to you, then."
"Yes."
Corin's sob reached a wail for a moment, making Aravis cringe. "I—was—so—wrong," he moaned. "So—shtupid…"
Cor sighed and laid back on the mattress with his eyes closed, and Aravis pushed the covers aside and sat up. "Oh, Corin, it's all right," she said with a deep breath. "You didn't mean anything by it."
"No—excuse," he insisted. "Hana—hates my every breath—"
"There, there."
"She says I—am a poor excuse—for a prince—a prince, Aravis—"
"She didn't mean it, I'm sure."
"But I am!"
"Well, perhaps if you didn't wake me up drunk in the wee hours of the morning, she might take it back."
This only made him more miserable.
"I'm sorry, Corin, that was mean. You can wake me up drunk whenever you want, if it makes you feel better. That's what friends are for."
Corin raised his flushed and tear-streaked face from her blanket, a look of woozy gratitude on it. "Really?" he whispered.
"Really."
"I wan'—to be a better friend, Ar'vis. How do I—hic—become a better frien'?"
"You can start by cutting your hair and trimming your beard," she answered honestly, flicking a wayward curl off his face. "You're beginning to look like a vagabond, both of you."
"I'll cut my hair," he said seriously.
"No, no," she replied in haste. "Let me do it. Tomorrow. All right, Corin? You go back to your room, go to sleep, and in the morning I'll cut your hair for you."
He nodded, vomited into her chamber pot, and passed out cold on her fireplace rug. Finally, she thought, running her hand through her messy hair, peace and quiet!
Cor had somehow managed to fall asleep with his head buried in her pillow, and she had to prod him a few times before he finally opened his eyes and looked up at her. "He's done," she said dryly.
"Already?" he answered with a yawn.
"Yes. Want to take him back to his room so he can sleep it off?"
"Leaving him on the floor would be an honor, but I'd rather he nurse his hangover in private."
"Thank you."
He yawned again and got up from her bed. "We decided it's best if he goes home soon," he said, fixing her pillows.
She stared at him. "What?"
Cor nodded. "He's miserable, Aravis, look at him. And I don't know what I can do about it besides sending him home to Father. He's dangerous to himself and to the rest of us when he gets drunk like this, and goodness knows it was a stupid idea to let him come along in the first place. There's a reason we're meant to take our fledgling years separately."
"What does he think about that?" she asked quietly.
"He hates it, of course. But it was his idea. He'll go with us to the hunting lodge and then make north from there."
She watched the stockier man snore on her rug, her heart sore. Suddenly, all the bitterness she had been harboring towards him dissolved, and she hunched over in genuine regret. "I wish it had gone better."
"So do I," Cor said mournfully, sitting on the mattress by her feet. "But we've got no choice. What if he let something happen to you?"
"You should be worrying about yourself, not me," she answered. "I'm no one. I'm not important."
"You're important to me," he said simply. He then got up and slung Corin's senseless form over his shoulder, staggering a bit under the weight. "If you can get back to sleep after all this, that would be impressive."
"Be careful with your shoulders," Aravis said with a bit of alarm.
"Don't worry about me. Pity the poor man for the massive headache he'll have tomorrow."
She had to giggle a bit.
Cor nodded and headed for the door, accidentally clipping Corin's head on the edge of Aravis's bed. "Damn it."
"Chalk it up to the drink tomorrow."
"My thoughts exactly."
"Oh, and Cor," she added as he was reaching for the door with his free hand, "you're important to me, too."
"I was hoping you'd say that," he replied with a smile, then closed the door behind him and left her in peace.
A/N: Four words: papers, sinus infection, blizzard. ~SH
