Erik stiffened when he heard the low thud on the service door. He lowered the book and listened carefully. Everything was quiet for a while and then there came a faint rasping sound, as if an animal was rubbing against the wood. Erik waited for a while, but nothing else came. Yet he was certain it had been Gracie.

Whatever was that child doing out of bed at this time of night? Erik put down the book and rose from the armchair. Without a sound, he made his way down the hall. He unlocked the service door and opened it a crack.

There she was, sitting on the steps that led to the fourth floor, leaning against the wall, covered in her cloak. Her eyes were closed, and Erik winced when he noticed the dry tears that streaked her cheeks.

"Gracie," he whispered.

She didn't react. He opened the door and crouched in front of her.

"Gracie," he called out again.

She opened her eyes. Her gaze was dazed and unfocused.

"What happened, child?"

She shook her head faintly, and Erik knew better than asking further. The air out in the servant's staircase was chilly, and she was shivering.

"Do you want to come in?"

She nodded. Erik stood up, and retreated towards the door. He opened it completely, and stood to the side, giving her a wide berth.

She stood up and came in. Erik watched as she hesitantly made her way to the living room. Something was definitely wrong. Her course, at best, could be described as erratic. How long had she been outdoors? Had she had something to eat? Erik went into the kitchen and made a cup of chocolate. Cup in one hand, a dish with biscuits in the other, he headed to the living room.

He found her huddled on the couch, still wrapped in her cloak. She seemed to be faring a little better. She had stopped shivering, and she looked at him when he came in.

He silently offered her the cup and carefully went around her and sat on the opposite side of the couch, putting the dish between them. He gently pushed the dish towards her, with the tip of his fingers. He watched her take the first few, careful sips, and then stop.

Suddenly, she went completely pale, doubled over and threw up on the carpet. Part of the chocolate spilled as well, before Erik caught the cup with a deft movement.

Gracie recoiled immediately, shunning from him. She curled up in a tight knot, evidently trying to avoid the blows she thought would come. Erik put the cup on the low table, slowly, and turned towards her.

"It's all right. It's all right. It wasn't your fault," he said in his kindest tone, trying to soothe her. "I'm not angry with you. Gracie, look at me."

She didn't move, her knees drawn to her chest, shoulders hunched and head ducked low. Even from a distance, Erik could feel the tension in her little body. He longed to touch her, to hold her close and comfort her, but he knew it was not to be. Instead, he tried to reach her with his voice.

"Gracie, come on, open your eyes. Look at me," he coaxed her again.

After a little while, she dared to peek over her knees. Erik smiled.

"It wasn't your fault you threw up, little one," he explained. "You are ill. Would you let me put my hand on your forehead to see if you have a fever?"

She blinked.

"I need to see if you are feverish, Gracie. I will not hurt you," he reassured her.

At last, she nodded. Erik slowly reached out to her, being careful not to lift his hand over her head until it was very close to her. Still she winced at the touch of his fingers. The contact had to be disgusting. He immediately drew his hand away.

"You don't have a fever," he informed her. "But your stomach is upset. We'll have to do something about it. Let me clean up and then I will give you something that will make you feel better."

He stood up, gathered the cup and the dish. She was still curled up on the couch when he came back with a wet rag. She was shivering again. Erik felt a burning wave of anger overtake him. Who knows what kind of rubbish had that stupid woman fed her to make her ill? He scrubbed the carpet vigorously, trying to focus his anger. It wouldn't help if Gracie felt he was mad. When he came back to the living room with another steaming cup in his hand, he crouched carefully in front of her. He called her name and she opened her eyes. They were once again clouded over.

"Are you in pain?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Does your stomach hurt?"

She shook her head. Erik left the cup on the table and forgot about the infusion immediately.

"Is it your head?"

She shook her head again.

"What is it, then? Where does it hurt?"

She didn't answer.

"I need to know what hurts, little one. Otherwise I cannot fix it," he explained to her. "Tell me where it hurts and I promise you I will make the pain go away."

Slowly, she straightened her knees and opened her cloak. She flinched when she moved her right arm to show him. Erik heard his own hiss as he drew in a sharp breath. Her right forearm was bent in an absurd angle. The stupid cow had broken the child's arm! How had she dared?

Gracie's enormous eyes looked at him in panic and she retreated a little further against the back of the couch. Erik bit his lip. He had frightened her.

"It's all right, Gracie," he reassured her after a moment. "I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with the one that hurt you. Was it your mama?"

She didn't give him an answer, but he didn't need one.

"Your arm is broken, that's why it hurts so much," he continued. "I will make it better."

His words didn't seem to calm her, so he continued.

"I will draw away the pain, little one. Trust me, Gracie. Do you trust me?"

A single nod. Erik smiled.

"All right. I will have to make you go to sleep, so I can set the bones. But you need not fear. I'll be right back."

Erik stood up again and went to his room. He opened the medicine cabinet and stopped, bottle in hand. How would he make her go to sleep without making her panic? A handkerchief held tightly over one's mouth and nose was everything but reassuring. He went back to the living room, still pondering the matter. Better to explain everything to her. She would sense the sincerity in his words and he hoped, prayed actually, her trust was strong enough not to fight him.

"This medicine will put you to sleep," he said as he showed her the bottle. "It is not something you drink, but something you inhale. I will put some of it in my handkerchief," he continued as he did what he said, "And then you'll take it and put it over your nose, like this."

He showed her, being careful not to breathe in, and then offered her the handkerchief. She took it and did as he said.

"Now we will take in some deep breaths together, like this."

He breathed in, held his breath and released it through his mouth. She imitated him. At the third breath, her eyes were already closing. He caught her little body as it slid to one side and laid her on the couch. He waited for a minute until he was sure she was deeply drugged, and then reached for her right arm. He sensed it carefully. Luckily, it was a simple fracture, and it didn't seem to have happened long ago. The arm was not swollen. Erik looked around for something to splint it with.

A moment later, he'd set the bones and bandaged the arm. He looked at Gracie's face. Her features were peaceful, as if she was sleeping in her own bed, just as any other child her age at this late hour. She was so delicate, so beautiful. How could anyone harm her? That people had beaten him even when he was a child was, in a way, understandable. But such a pretty girl, such a perfect creature. . .

It would not happen again, vowed Erik. It would never happen again.

Tenderly, because he knew she was unconscious, he allowed himself to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers.