Chapter 31

The Invisible tossed yet another blanket over the bed, trying to keep the poor child warm.

They had taken her back to the room she had used for the first couple nights she had spent here, and carefully cleaned her up and tried to get her to come around, with next to no luck.

The chill on her skin scared them even more than her unresponsiveness to treatment, but with nothing to help her besides hot bricks wrapped in quilts, they could do nothing except pile on the covers and try to contain as much heat around her form as she could give off herself.

After a very careful procedure, they had gotten some water and a little broth down her throat, but there had been no response.

They had retrieved her from the dungeon three long days ago, and she had not regained consciousness once.

The Invisibles were beside themselves with worry for her and rage at their master.

At least one of them remained by her side at all times, taking turns every few hours, and currently it was the second and third's shift.

Neither had wanted to be alone, so they had convinced the others to let them tag-team the job and take both shares of their time at once.

Not only was this job nerve-inducing but about as boring as watching grass grow, and it had zapped nearly all the funny out of them.

And that was a serious matter in their opinion.

They had lost interest in the dominoes after a while, and were now staring blankly at Avalina, watching somewhat warily, half afraid that every breath she took would be the girl's last.

Neither of them wanted to speak about her condition, for fear of putting words to the thoughts they did not wish to complete, with of course the worst-case scenario at the very top of their minds.

Avalina could die.

She had been dying when they had finally been allowed to start caring for her, and she had shown no improvement at all.

"Is this cruel?"

One of them suddenly asked, sounding on the verge of tears.

A questioning silence followed, before it continued.

"To keep her like this?"

A sniff came from the other.

"I don't know."

"Do you think she's in pain?"

"I don't know. I hope not."

"Would it have been better for her if we hadn't intervened?"

"Gracious, don't say that! I don't think so."

"Do you think she's gonna. . .you know. . ."

"I don't know!"

It half snapped, too busy wiping tears away to really bark.

"And shut up! You're making me all slushy!"

A soft chuckle came from the other.

"I would punch myself for you but let's face it, you can't when you're invisible."

"Then I'll do it for you and me both!"

A smacking noise resounded.

"Ouch!"

The other cackled as the other replied gingerly,

"I'll make sure I use you as the mop next time we're assigned to clean the floors, then."

"Why?"

"Cause you're just so soppy."

Chuckles ensued, the first real sign of happiness they had shown in many weeks.

Their spirits raised, they were able to feel a bit more hopeful for Avalina's future.

The door came open, causing them to turn towards it, wondering if one of the others needed them.

The last thing they expected to see standing in the doorway was the Horned King.

It had been three days, and he had not asked about Avalina.

The Invisibles had given no information, and he had not ordered any, deducing that if the girl had died he would have been notified of it.

After arguing/debating with himself, he had decided to see for himself how she fared.

An Invisible had opened her door for him when he approached her room.

He fancied he had heard soft chuckles on the other side of the wood, but as he stepped into the torchlight all that met him was silence.

He could sense Invisibles in the room as he slowly approached the girl's bed.

Reaching the foot, he was about to go further when a soft hiss of fury stopped him by its sheer force.

"Don't. You. Dare. Touch her."

An Invisible snarled at him from somewhere to his right.

"Something like you doesn't even deserve to *look* at something like her."

The Horned King turned his head a fraction of an inch, listening to the Invisible.

Although his face remained impassive, his thoughts were not.

'Saying something will only encourage them. But, as insufferable as they are. . .they are right.'

He grudgingly admitted to himself, his head lowering a fraction of an inch.

'I don't deserve it.'

The torch cast his terrifying shadow onto the blankets, silhouetting his figure over the girl's lifeless form like Death itself.

Looking down at Avalina's face, he narrowed his eyes slowly, but the action lacked any of his usual malice.

An odd, faint sensation, one he couldn't name, came over him as he took her appearance in.

Her face was drained of all color, save for the cut above her right eye she had had when she arrived here. It was nearly healed now.

And the blueish-black mark across her left cheekbone. It stood out like a blackberry in snow.

Her neck was still decorated in the marks he had given her over a fortnight ago, but they had faded.

From time or the lack of blood circulating, he couldn't tell.

He had to stare for a couple moments before his eyes caught the faint rise and fall of her chest beneath the blankets, the only sign she was still alive.

If this could even be called that.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had finished it three days ago.

And yet. . .a small part of him wondered if it were possible for her to wake up from this.

From what he had done to her.

'Well, child?'

He asked silently, watching the girl's faint breathing.

'The choice appears to be yours alone. Do not put your trust in Fate and let them decide for you.'

He bared his fangs faintly at the thought.

'If you wish to live, do so. I will not stop you. And neither can they.'

After staring at her face for several more moments, he slowly turned and walked from the room, his menacing shadow slowly receding off the girl's form on the bed, allowing the torchlight to return to dance over the blankets again.

As the door shut behind him, the odd feeling that had came over him did not leave. He paused for a moment to ponder it, before sensing a presence nearby.

Looking neither to the right or the left, he spoke, his dead monotone echoing off the castle walls.

"Report to me daily on her condition."

"Yes, Sire," the Invisible answered softly.

And with that, the Horned King was gone.