Author's Note: Whhhhhhat!? An update and a new story all in the same day. Yup, believe it! This is a multi-chapter story, but fairly light in content. Not too much angst (maybe just a wee bit, because, I mean who doesn't like a little angst in their romance?) Current count is eleven chapters total. Each chapter is fairly short. I'm aiming for posting every other day.
As always Sofia is proper gown-up age. At least 18+ and all that jazz.
Touch
Chapter One
He couldn't sleep, no matter how badly his body begged for rest. Eyesight blurred and body aching, he'd just have to hold on a bit longer. Three days' time could see him sleep to his heart's content. Until then it was catnaps and gallons of black tea to keep the inconvenient haze of delirium at bay.
In response to the encroaching haze of sleep, Cedric lifted a cup to his lips, receiving only a solitary drop of cold bitter tea. He peered into the bottom wondering when it had gone empty. Groping for the pot without turning from his stirring, he poured a freshly steaming cup, only giving a cursory glance to make sure he had in fact poured tea rather than accidentally reaching for a beaker of pickled salamander spleen, or something equally unpleasant.
Just tea, black as night and brimming with life-giving caffeine. He took a deep swallow praying for some measure of artificial energy to come to him, though he knew he was in the downward slide. If he wanted true energy at this stage, he'd have to dip into something stronger than tea. He was hesitant to go so far, at least this early in the day, but he might have to before the day's end. Another bloody ball that night with another blasted performance to put on. As if he did not have far more pressing matters to worry about than entertaining the gentry with parlor tricks. For now, he'd stick with the tea, though his stomach rallied for some food to go with the it.
The sun had only been above the horizon for an hour, but Cedric had never gone to bed, one day bleeding into another without beginning or end. His hand shook slightly when he set the cup down. He flexed his fingers to stop the tremor. The potion before him required a steady hand. It wouldn't do to inadvertently poison the king nor his honored guests. If Cedric hadn't had the nerve to kill Roland back when he craved the throne, he certainly had no wish to do so by accident.
He picked up the phial he thought he wanted but checked it again just to be sure. Squinting didn't really help, and it took a long moment before his tired eyes could focus. He measured carefully before adding the it to the simmering cauldron. The potion was not necessarily complicated, but finicky, and as it came as a personal request from the king, Cedric did not relish a ruined batch. There was no time to start again. In truth, it should be done by now, but each step took twice as long, checking and triple checking for accuracy as his judgement could not be trusted. He needed sleep, but that was a long way off yet.
Lowering the burner to a steady simmer, his part was done for a time on this concoction. It needed to boil away, leaving the crystallized essence of dissolved ingredients. He moved on to the next item on his ever-expanding, never-seeming-to-shrink to-do list. His eyes flickered disobediently to the notes scattered across his desk. That was nothing he should concern himself with just now, but he couldn't help another glance in their direction. He pulled a spare cauldron from the shelf, wavering slightly under the weight, his vision going dim for a moment. He really should eat something. Instead, he filled the cauldron with water and set it over another burner to come up to temperature.
From the lower drawer he grabbed a jar of dried herbs, tossing a handful into a mortar before crushing them to a fine powder. His eye lids drooped as he worked the heel of his hand against the pestle in rhythmic circles. His chin dropped sharply towards his chest startling him awake in the same instant he nearly fell asleep on his feet. Dropping the crushed herbs into the warming water, he took a moment to brace his hands against the table and close his eyes. He'd pulled all-nighters before, but they'd never had this effect on him. He didn't feel merely tired, but exhausted. Truly deep down to the bones weary. His body signals were all flashing red, trying to warn him unequivocally that he couldn't keep the pace he'd held these last few weeks.
Three days, he told himself reassuringly. Three more days then he could rest all he liked. He pressed on, reaching for the next thing to be done.
Magic sizzled through the air turning night to bright day in a twisting swirl of color. Sofia tipped her head back in awe of the rainbow spectacle. The sky dazzled above the heads of the spectators. The display could be seen all the way down in the village and even here at the castle she could see the distant silhouette of gathered families, arms flung out, pointing at the sky as magic brought a joy into their lives that they rarely got to experience. Enchancia was truly blessed, she thought, smiling to herself as she turned to look at the sorcerer responsible.
Cedric was not close to her, but standing solitary in the wide garden patio, the guests standing in a wide circle. All eyes were turned to the sky. All except Sofia's, who was looking at the man working complicated patterns with his wand and accompanying hand. A small smile graced her lips, unbidden but irrepressible. A flutter unfurled in her chest, making her skin tight and her blood flow thick. She glanced away, knowing she should suppress her feelings, as always. It was a hopeless endeavor, pining for the man. He was clueless at best, surly at his worst, and utterly unaware of her agonizing crush on him. At least she called it a crush, though such casual interest usually faded with time. Her interest in Hugo, though intense for an entire year back when they were thirteen and on the same derby team, had simply evaporated one day when she'd seen him shoving grapes up his nose while Khalid laughed uproariously. They remained good friend to this day, still trading good-natured jibes on each other's riding prowess, or lack of. Much the same had come of her heart's desire at sixteen which told her Zandar was utterly perfect in every way. She still cringed to recall how she used any excuse to butt in on his visits to see James. There her interest had merely waned, slowly realizing they did not share much in common. This proved a boon when a year later Amber set her sights on him.
Her interest in Cedric though had formed late and stayed longer than any other. She felt things in his presence she did not dare put name to, and tried as best she could to suppress at every turn. But she could never seem to deny the way her heart fluttered when she watched him perform. It was almost as blissfully painful as the times their eyes met and she caught him in a rare, unguarded moment. Her eyes flitted back to where he stood, hands raised, sketching magic across the sky. He couldn't see her and she allowed herself the indulgence of staring openly.
It was just as well that she did, else wise perhaps no one would have seen him collapse.
Darkness enveloped the crowd suddenly as the night-time display dissolved. Without a caster to feed it, the magic evaporated. Gasps of surprise and titters of amusement buzzed through the audience. Nervousness had not yet taken over, still thinking it part of the show. The pause, the held breath before the grand finale. Sofia had no mind for her guests just then. She turned to the man at her side blindly clutching his arm.
"Baileywick," she murmured, trying to keep her sense of mounting alarm at bay, "something's wrong. Have the torches lit, now please."
If the steward had questions, he didn't voice then. Quietly, efficiently, he relayed her orders with discretion. Sofia didn't wait. With a whispered word and a flick of the wrist a slender purple wand appeared in her hand. The small bead of light winking at its end cast a narrow band as she wove her way through the restless crowd. They weren't used to waiting for gratification. The pause had passed from amusement into irritation. But even a crisis couldn't make her forget her manners. Sofia pushed through them with polite but firm insistence.
When she reached Cedric he lay sprawled in the ungainly fashion of a body dropped without care. He had indeed collapsed, falling unhesitatingly to the ground without the benefit of softening the fall. He still breathed, only a little shallow, much to her relief. Immediately she dropped to her knees and began to make assessments, turning him gently onto his back, supporting his neck. She gasped when her palm touched his cheek. Heat rolled off his skin in high fever. Her palm lingered over his forehead, trying to surmise the extent of his sudden illness. A tingling began in her fingers. The sensation clung, trailing hungrily across her skin even as she lifted her hand away. It faded away even as she stared at her tingling fingers in wonder.
There was no time to dwell on it. Pushing the strange sensation out of her mind, she threaded gentle fingers through his hair, probing along his scalp for any sign that he'd struck his head when he'd tumbled to the marble floor. She found a knot just above his left temple, and winced in sympathetic pain. Already red and pushing outward to the size of an egg, but that was good. From what she recalled of her first aid training, it meant that the pressure was not pressing dangerously inward against his skull. Her finger lingered over the lump of bruised flesh and again the strange tingle came, not unlike cool water running over her fingertips, but different in quality.
Lights flared, making her blink. She'd nearly forgotten their audience. Now that they could see, the guests edged closer with open curiosity. Baileywick appeared at her side, relief flooding through her at his calming presence.
She looked up at him, subdued panic forcing her voice into hard resolve. "Get the royal physician."
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