A/N: Let the ouchies continue! I love a good angst train, don't you? 😇
Also, as a note, I just finished Ch. 30 edits last night and please know I am so very sorry.
Chapter 28 Content Warnings: occasional mention of physical injury and medical treatment, involuntary medical sedation
Chapter 28: gotta try harder
Caspian
Addie is late. It's nearing midnight; she should be here by now. She should be asleep. Doesn't she realise she can't keep pushing herself? Festered wounds can fell even the healthiest, brawniest soldiers.
Addie isn't healthy after two weeks in the forest, and she's no soldier.
She is, however, incredibly stubborn.
Perhaps she's gotten lost in the winding tunnels? It took Caspian days to properly learn the full layout; many tunnels look similar enough to send strangers wandering for half an hour trying to get back to a main tunnel. He ought to look for her.
No sooner has Caspian gotten to his feet than Addie rounds the bend, botany notes in hand.
"Sorry," she mumbles. "I knew the castle better."
Caspian catches Addie as she sways too near the wall. "You need rest. Have you been to Rainroot?"
Addie's head lolls against his shoulder. "Went this morning."
"Your fever hasn't broken yet." Caspian touches her forehead and frowns. Addie's brow is even warmer than it was when he woke. Rainroot warned him the fever may worsen before it gets better, but Addie's virtually inert and her skin is hot as a candle-flame.
"It's fine," she says, her words slurring together. "M'fine."
Clearly, she's not. Even Addie's copious reserves of mulishness can't defeat a fever and festering wound. She needs rest, water, and a healthy dose of self-preservation.
He can see to the first two.
Caspian scoops Addie up like a bride despite her half-intelligible protest that dies away before he even settles her onto his cloak.
"Rest, Addie," Caspian whispers into her hair.
Addie's eyes blink closed, her mouth frozen in a frown. She grabs his hand and curls around him where he kneels at her side.
Caspian indulges her, but his mind whirls. Addie shouldn't be this tired, and she definitely should not have stayed out so late. What was she doing? Reading? Something else? Addie was never the type to sit and read quietly for hours on end. Back at the castle, she was forever fidgeting, prone to setting down her book to stretch or look out at the moon or make eyes at him over the desk. Addie's not good at sitting still, at being patient.
No, she was out doing something else. Caspian sighs and tucks a stray curl behind her ear. Addie is sleeping now, her chest rising and falling as her breath puffs hot on his other hand. She needs her rest, and even were he to wake her, Caspian doubts she would listen.
He'll speak with Falmus. He needs to warn the faun of Addie's stubbornness anyway, as he should have this morning.
Caspian sighs, slow and restrained, exhaling the frustration tying knots in his chest. In retrospect, he should have known Addie would never take care of herself willingly. Not after her actions the night of their escape.
Addie refused to take care of herself for her own sake. Why would she do so for him?
An ember burns in his lungs. The unshed tears pooling in his eyes feel hot, even amid the How's underground chill.
He thought… he assumed Addie understood, that she had some inkling of what she'd done. He'd let go of his self-control and his anger, knelt at her feet and wept for that fortnight of pain and sorrow as Addie coaxed the tangles from his hair and wiped his tears. He thought she knew what she'd done to him.
To them.
One day she was dead, another loss consigned to the memories that wracked his nights with grief.
The next, Addie was standing before him in the flesh, alive but not well. Is she determined to revisit the horrors of that night and the nights thereafter? Is she so eager to send him back into the arms of heartache?
How long would she have lasted without Rainroot's medicines? How long will she last now, if he stands by and lets Addie push herself like this?
Caspian's fingers curl, and he wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. Either Addie doesn't understand, or she doesn't care. Neither thought soothes his tense limbs or tight throat.
Perhaps today was a temporary lapse. Perhaps Addie's learned her lesson and her body is exhausted enough to force her to rest, whether she likes it or not.
Caspian eases away, ignoring the twinge in his heart when Addie grumbles in her sleep and curls into his vacant spot, and sets out to find Falmus.
He finds the young faun chattering away with his older brother Vanus, a guard assigned to the How.
"I'm in this war the same as you," Falmus is saying, blond eyebrows pinched together. "I could join this next raiding party if I wanted, and there's nothing – Sire!"
Falmus hurries into a bow, though Vanus' is deeper. Caspian dips his head in respect.
"I understand Addie gave you trouble this morning, Falmus?"
The curly-haired faun flushes. "She's, er…"
"Stubborn?" Caspian offers.
"Headstrong," says Vanus with a wry half-smile. "Very headstrong."
Falmus nods, his ringlet curls bouncing. "I'm sure she's lovely, Sire, really, and I tried to keep her in your sleeping quarters."
Grimacing, Caspian clasps his hands behind his back. "She told me she threatened to break her stitches. Is that true?"
Falmus flushes a deeper red and looks to his brother. Vanus' stone-faced stare sends Falmus' sheepish eyes back to Caspian.
"She seemed perfectly willing to do it," Falmus says.
Caspian isn't sure, but it's not difficult to imagine she would. After all, she was foolish enough to break away in the escape. He closes his eyes. Sighs.
"Likely she would have," Caspian admits, opening his eyes slowly. "But I must ask you to take a firmer approach tomorrow."
Falmus frowns, but holds his tongue. Caspian takes a deep breath.
"I won't hold it against you if she makes good on the threat."
He will, however, speak with Rainroot about alternate methods to keep Addie from doing more damage to herself.
Falmus agrees, though he shifts uneasily from hoof to hoof. Caspian turns to Vanus.
"I take it Addie refused to stay inside?"
Unlike his brother, Vanus is stoic under Caspian's stare. "Adamantly, Your Majesty. If I may, she was content to stay still when I gave her something to do."
Caspian sighs through a spike of annoyance. Were the notes he asked her to review not satisfactory? Addie wrote them herself, so she must have thought them important.
"Addie did not return until midnight. Keep her mind busy if you must, but send her inside after four hours at most. Preferably less."
As little as Caspian likes the idea of Addie standing exposed on the ledge, at least she had Vanus with her in case of spies attacking.
Vanus frowns and shakes his head. "She was only with me until dinnertime."
The fire in his rib cage stokes higher.
Caspian grasps his hands tighter so he won't massage his temples. What, then, was Addie up to in those hours after dinner?
He can work that out later. For now, he needs everyone she's spoken with to see sense. If Addie won't care for herself, then it falls on his shoulders to do it for her.
He will not lose her again. Never again.
"Addie needs to recover," Caspian says. "And I need your help – both of yours – to see that she does. Falmus, keep her confined to my quarters to the best of your ability, take her to Rainroot every morning and make sure she eats her meals. Vanus, if she comes to the ledge again, send her inside the moment she tires. Forcibly if you must."
Vanus agrees at once, but Falmus purses his lips. "Supposing she does as she wishes anyway?"
Though Caspian intends to speak with Addie in the morning, to ask her once again to rest and heal (to ease his mind, if she won't do it for her own sake), Falmus is right to be skeptical.
"Fetch me," Caspian answers firmly. "And inform Rainroot."
Perhaps Addie will surprise him, Caspian muses as he takes his leave of the brothers and returns to her side. She may wake exhausted and sore from her gallivanting today, and maybe then she'll see sense.
He knows it's wishful thinking. Addie has always done as Addie wishes, and he loved her for it.
Caspian toes off his boots and lies down, taking Addie into his arms and tucking her head onto his shoulder for a pillow.
Perhaps this time, Addie will listen.
Addie
She wakes to warm hands in her hair, massaging her scalp and easing her into awareness. Addie burrows into Caspian's heat and tucks her nose into his neck. He'll probably be gone all day, and he's still upset, and she has the most monstrous headache.
Maybe she pushed herself too hard yesterday. But what else can she do? She can't be dead weight in the middle of a war, in this camp of strangers and beasts. What will they do if she does nothing but eat and sleep and take up precious medicine they'll need for injured soldiers? That's worse than being useless; that's draining resources they badly need.
Caspian's fingers slow at the nape of her neck; he knows she's woken. "How are you feeling?"
Like a barnful of horses trampled her head and stomped her shoulder, but he'll insist on her resting if she says so.
Addie nestles closer. "A little better."
In answer, Caspian presses his wrist to her forehead instead of acknowledging the lie. "Your fever is worse."
It feels worse; the pressure in her head is worse than a hangover and the backs of her eyes are burning.
"S'just a fever," Addie mumbles through a yawn. "Not that bad."
Caspian's sigh heats her already overheated brow. "Addie."
"Caspian."
When she tries to nuzzle in again, Caspian cups her cheek and pushes her back until their eyes meet.
It's not fair; he must know she's terrible at resisting those impossibly dark eyes of his. Addie reaches up to stroke away the tension in his jaw before she can stop herself.
It's the wrong hand.
Addie silently curses her mistake as her shoulder spasms and Caspian's gaze hardens at her wince.
"You returned late last night."
"I was reading," Addie says as Caspian's thumb traces the swell of her cheek. "Studying. Like you said."
It's not technically a lie. After she finished the watch with Vanus and ate dinner, she spent hours reading those notes by torchlight and cursing her shaky letters.
Caspian's jaw works to one side. "For twelve hours?"
Addie lifts her chin and stares back. Caspian isn't asking, not really. He's looking at her like he's waiting for a confession.
"You talked to Vanus," she guesses.
Caspian's stare nearly makes her squirm.
"And to Falmus," he says.
Addie swallows an inexplicable spike of nerves. "It wasn't their fault."
For a moment, Caspian's mouth twists strangely before settling into a frown. "I am aware. I've told them to do whatever necessary to keep you resting."
He what?
"You told them to babysit me?" Addie scowls.
This morning's headache probably would have kept her in bed for the rest of the morning, but now that Caspian's given orders to treat her like a child, she'll have to drag herself out of bed soon. She may have a fever, but Addie still has her pride.
The few times she was sick over the last decade, Perla fussed when she showed up at the kitchen anyway. But Perla also thanked her for it sometimes, or let everyone off early after an unusually light day. Pushing herself works.
"– if I must," Caspian is saying, his dark eyes flashing with a warning. "Would you have me distracted worrying about you?"
That's not fair; Caspian has no right to use his concern to keep her confined. She's a newcomer here, doesn't he know she has to earn her keep? She doesn't have the luxury of royal blood to make her worth something to strangers.
Despite herself, Addie's frown slips and her good hand strays toward Caspian's cheek.
"So don't worry," she murmurs. "I'll be fine."
Caspian's jaw clenches tighter. "Don't give me reason to. Rest."
His tone alone sparks defiance in her chest, obstinacy surging beside her desire to see these worry lines smoothed from Caspian's features. She wants to heal, of course she does, but… must healing mean being useless too?
Addie grits out a half-hearted agreement and says she'll try. Caspian's lingering kiss to her hairline helps, but Addie promises herself she'll find another way to be useful today.
The watch is out, since Caspian spoke to Vanus. That leaves studying her notes and asking Rainroot to teach her the basics of a healer's trade. That's useful, Addie muses as Caspian rises for the day and tucks his cloak tight around her shoulders. Wars mean battles, and battles mean people get hurt and need patching up. Surely Rainroot could use another pair of hands.
Her shoulder twinges.
Well, a hand.
Addie yawns and listens to Caspian's fading footsteps until his boots pass beyond earshot and Falmus' approach echoes in the tunnel. Falmus' steps are easy to identify; his walk is closer to a trot, and he's light on his feet – hooves.
Addie huffs, staring at the ceiling as she burrows deeper into Caspian's cloak. It's warm, but more importantly it smells like him - like sun-soaked trees and salty musk and… home.
Just an hour more, Addie promises herself. Her headache will ease by then.
When she wakes, her stomach is growling, the tunnel torches are only half-lit, and Falmus is shaking her, chattering about being late for Rainroot.
Addie drags herself up on aching limbs and has little choice but to let Falmus help her through the tunnels to the healer's grotto.
Tomorrow, Addie tells herself as she swallows the bitter willow bark tea and forces down a meagre dinner of unidentifiable stew. Tomorrow, she will make herself useful.
It's two days before the fever breaks, and another day after that before her body lets her stay awake longer than an hour or two at a time. Caspian usually leaves before she wakes, but Addie sees him for the midday meal he insists on bringing to her and at night when he wraps his cloak tightly around her shoulders and holds her until the shivers subside.
Addie is too tired to argue. She wants to, wants to tell Caspian she's not a falcon or a pampered nobleman's horse and she needs to be doing something. Wants to prove she's not weak, to promise she can be useful.
Every time the words form on her tongue, Caspian's concern pushes them back down her throat. His kisses linger on her forehead, his stares burn into her awareness, and occasionally his hand trembles when he strokes her cheek.
Sometimes Addie remembers Caspian kneeling before her, his shoulders bent with the memory of grief as he gripped her hips like an oath, and she doesn't want to see him like that again. She doesn't want him distracted.
Today, however, is different. Today, this fourth day of bedrest and boredom, Addie's vision is clear and her headache has finally subsided. She's awake when Caspian leaves, and he kisses her on the mouth for the first time in days. He's not relieved, but his concern is a lighter cloud than usual and that's as good a reason as any to get up.
Addie waits until Caspian leaves and Falmus clops down the tunnel before greeting the young faun with a cheery smile.
"Good morning," Addie says, sitting primly with her good arm around her knees.
Falmus stares at her with wide, sky-blue eyes. "You're up?"
Addie bites back a chuckle. "Clearly," she says. "Ready?"
Falmus blinks. "Er, ready?"
Addie shrugs off Caspian's cloak and stands on sore legs. Rest may have broken the fever, but every limb and muscle is sore from days laying on hard earth. "For breakfast. And then to Rainroot, of course."
The faun rushes to help even when Addie tries to wave away his offered hand. It's sweet, but unnecessary. If she wants to have the run of the How, she has to look fully recovered - or close enough Falmus won't tattle.
"Are you sure?" Falmus asks, bushy eyebrows drawn together. "I mean, you seem much better, but His Majesty said -"
"That I need to rest," Addie interrupts. "And heal, right? I've done that the past four days."
Falmus shifts his weight, his hand hovering near her elbow. "Yes, but you're not fully recovered. I know wounds like that, my lady."
Addie wrinkles her nose. Again with 'my lady?' What on earth has Caspian said to the Narnians?
"It's just Addie," she says as she walks slowly past. "Breakfast first, or Rainroot?"
Hooves clatter on stone as Falmus rushes to catch up. Addie accepts his hand only because her legs are aching and it's better to lean on Falmus than to tip over. If Caspian got word - and he would, because Falmus would tell him - she'd be back in bed for another four days.
Well, if she fails to win over her babysitters.
"I think His Majesty would insist on seeing Rainroot first," says the faun, his calloused hand warm and steady as he bears what little of her weight Addie will allow. "He said Rainroot's verdict is law."
Did he now?
Addie smiles. "To Rainroot, then."
Rainroot is busy mending an ugly gash in a satyr's side. Falmus' boyish face falls, and he flinches at the sight of Rainroot's needle and thread.
Addie squeezes his hand. Caspian mentioned the Narnians were raiding Telmarine camps, but this is the first time she's seen anyone return injured.
"Miraz's spies are circling like vultures," Falmus murmurs, voice distant as if he's talking to himself. "My brother says we have enough scouts, but…"
Addie takes in the faun's frown, his uncharacteristic stillness, the wistful glint in his eyes.
"You want to be out there with them," she guesses.
Falmus startles, as if just remembering her presence. "Vanus says we all have our part to play," he says. "And that mine is here."
Interesting.
Addie meets Falmus' glance. "Doesn't mean you have to like it." She grimaces at her sling. "Believe me, I know something about that."
Falmus smiles before shaking himself back to the seriousness that looks so out of place on his young features.
Addie nods toward the dining cave. "Breakfast?"
After breakfast, they return to Rainroot. The centaur lifts an eyebrow as Addie approaches with Falmus' help.
"Your colour is much improved," says Rainroot, nodding to the stone slab Addie knows well by now. "No more night chills?"
Addie eases onto the stone with a nod of thanks to Falmus. "Nope. Fever's gone."
Rainroot feels her forehead anyway, her face neutral. "So it is. And your shoulder?"
There's no hiding her scowl, so Addie doesn't bother trying. "Itchy as Tash's hells. How long until that stops?"
Rainroot hums and unties the sling with practised ease. "That is a good thing. Itching means healing."
"It's infuriating." Addie sighs in relief as Rainroot peels off the poultice and the cool cave air meets the heated wound. "It's worse with the herbs."
"Staunchweed sometimes causes a rash; you may be sensitive to it." says Rainroot. She smears the dark green paste over a fresh cloth. "It will pass in a few days after I stop administering the poultice."
A few days? Addie tries not to grumble as Rainroot presses the freshly ground herbs to her shoulder. It always stings, but today the itching is worse.
"Can't we stop the poultice now?" Addie asks through clenched teeth.
Rainroot reties the bandage and sling. "Not for another three days. This festering is stubborn."
Of course it is. Addie ignores the centaur's pointed look.
Addie reaches to itch, and Rainroot instantly slaps her hand away.
"None of that. Patience, Adelina."
Addie scowls, but she knows better than to argue with the healer. At least Rainroot's dropped that 'my lady' nonsense.
"Speaking of patience," Addie says. "I really am feeling better."
The centaur doesn't look up from wiping off her mortar and pestle. "And?"
After a glance at Falmus, Addie speaks. "And I'm bored."
"Healing can be boring. You've done well resting in recent days."
"Four days," Addie says. "I counted."
"Five," Rainroot counters. "You slept through the first." The centaur tosses aside the green-stained cleaning rag and plucks fresh sprigs from the dried herb bunches hanging overhead. "Five days of bed rest cleared your fever, but the infection remains."
"But that's in my shoulder." Addie jumps down from Rainroot's makeshift table without Falmus' help. "My legs work just fine. And I still have a good arm."
A pestle grinds on stone as Rainroot drops the herbs into the mortar. "Ask what you came here to ask."
So, Rainroot prefers the blunt approach. Addie files the information in her mind as a useful tidbit and stands tall.
"Could you use a hand? I'd like to help - to be useful."
The centaur's pestle slows. "A healer always needs extra hands in a war. What do you know of medicine?"
Addie's face heats. She wouldn't be a burden, if that's what Rainroot means. "Not much, but I learn fast. I know a little about herbs."
Rainroot looks up from her stalled herb grinding. Her face gives nothing away in her appraisal, as unreadable as a stone statue.
"If not, that's fine," Addie says. "I'll find something else to do."
If Rainroot is as strict as Addie suspects about resting, she'll have to find other ways to help out anyway.
After a long, painstaking moment, Rainroot nods. "Very well. Begin by identifying all the herbs you recognise above me."
Addie smothers a triumphant grin. This is good, this is useful - it's a start.
"You can go, Falmus," Addie says to the faun hovering at her side. "I'll be with Rainroot for a little while."
Rainroot lashes her tail. "Return in two hours' time to fetch her. You may seem much improved now, Adelina, but you are not yet recovered."
Two hours? That's nothing! That still leaves most of the day with nothing to do but wallow -
Addie sets her jaw and waves goodbye to Falmus. If she keeps her head up, maybe Rainroot will reconsider.
It's a pleasantly challenging morning of identifying and memorising herbs - a practical application of Addie's note-taking and studying. But the moment Falmus reappears, Rainroot plucks Addie's notes from her hands and orders her away.
"Off to bed," says the centaur. "Return later this afternoon if you feel up to it."
Addie frowns. Her eyes may be cloudy, but it's too wonderful to be up on her feet to simply stop.
"I feel up to it now."
Rainroot glances her up and down as Falmus shifts nervously outside the grotto. "You're paler. Rest until the midday meal."
Unfortunately, Addie suspects arguing won't do her any favours with the healer. Rainroot's been strict these past two hours; she's unlikely to budge.
Addie can't help but protest anyway, the yawning maw of another monotonous, useless day muddling her better judgement to stay quiet and sneak off to find something else to pass the time.
"I've rested plenty," Addie counters sharply. "I'll stay awake reciting herbs for hours if you send me back."
Rainroot lifts a neatly arched eyebrow. "Is that so?"
Addie shifts. Perla sometimes got that warning tone too, but every time Addie pushed past it, Perla seemed to appreciate her persistence. The other maids certainly did, however much Lola protested otherwise.
Maybe Rainroot needs a softer approach. She might see too much fussing as ingratitude for her healing efforts.
"Please," Addie tries, softening the line of her shoulders. "I just want to help. That's all."
"It's nearly midday," Falmus chimes in, stepping closer. "You take luncheon with His Majesty, don't you?"
Addie narrowly averts rolling her eyes. Falmus knows very well that Caspian visits every day at lunch with a bowl of stew and a stern frown. It's not 'luncheon' so much as hovering.
Still, that's the most she sees of Caspian. At night, if she's awake enough to know when he returns, he falls asleep immediately and leaves early.
It's gnawing holes in her chest, this stalemate.
Yet, the same pattern has kept them from fighting. Caspian rarely smiles around her now, but he never speaks of the escape. Doesn't berate her for breaking away, nor does he wear his grief so nakedly. It's a fragile peace, but it's better than nothing.
What will Caspian have to say now that she's more herself again? What will he say when Falmus blabs about her morning out of bed?
He'll look down at her with those midnight-dark eyes, brow furrowed and an odd twist in his mouth.
Or, worse, he'll look at her like he's a prince before he's Caspian. Like she's disobeyed him and he can't fathom why.
Addie turns to Falmus with a pinched attempt at a smile. "Missing one lunch won't hurt," she answers belatedly. "Better to take advantage of a good day."
Falmus hesitates and looks to Rainroot. The centaur meets his glance before turning away and preparing a tea bag with willow bark and a few flowers Addie hasn't learned about yet.
"You may experience improved days," says Rainroot. She carefully weighs the tea bag in her palm and, satisfied, ties it closed. "But do not expect tomorrow to be the same. The healing process isn't linear."
Does that mean she'll allow her to say? Addie stifles a victorious smile. "All the more reason to be useful today, then."
Rainroot hums, pouring hot water from the kettle constantly perched above the fire in the rear of the grotto. "So long as you don't overextend yourself. Drink this when it cools; it will keep your strength up."
The clay cup is warm against her palm as Addie accepts it one-handed. The sling renders her right arm almost entirely immobile. Helpful as it is to keep her shoulder steady and healing, it's a dreadful bother.
Addie recites the herbs she knows again as the tea cools, the steam carrying the scent of willow bark into her nostrils. Something earthy and floral cuts through the usual bitterness. Herbs to stimulate blood flow and energy?
Addie gulps the tea and peers over Rainroot's shoulder as the centaur busies herself tearing bandages from old shirts. Strangely, they look exactly like Marcos' off-duty shirts.
"Are those Telmarine?"
"Our raiding parties return with fresh supplies and weapons every day," says Falmus, stepping behind Rainroot's stone tables. "Are you alright?"
Addie teeters as she steps back to give Rainroot room to work. "I'm fine," Addie says. Her voice sounds odd - distant, sluggish, like she has cotton stuffed in her ears. "The bandages, do they need to be wa- "
Words fail her at the same second her knees buckle. There's a brief sensation of vertigo, a curse lying thick across her tongue, and then nothing.
When Addie comes to, Caspian is there, pressing a warm hand to her brow and muttering something about "impossible" and "not even a week" as he tucks his cloak around her shoulders and hips.
Addie clears her parched throat, swallowing against the sandpaper of her tongue. Gods, if she passed out then she'll really never hear the end of it -
She was fine until the tea. A bit tired, but fine.
Drink this when it cools; it will keep your strength up.
Rainroot drugged her.
Addie swears and jolts upright, narrowly missing knocking heads with Caspian. She suppresses another curse as a stabbing pain runs through her shoulder with the sudden movement. Her vision swims; Caspian's gentle hands are the only reason she doesn't fall back to the ground.
"Slowly," Caspian says as he steadies her. "You're still pale."
"I'm sure," Addie bites out. She'd push him away if she had the strength. "She drugged me! She fucking drugged me!"
Caspian rubs circles on her neck, like that'll make it any better. Like he expects to soothe her into compliance.
"Rainroot told you to return here and rest, did she not?"
Addie fists her good hand in the cloak, her dry tongue sticky in her mouth. "I was fine!"
Caspian's sigh is a heavy, tired thing between them. When he meets her stare, Addie finds nothing but steel in his dark eyes.
"Rainroot is the healer, not you. Was it so hard to do as she asked?"
So hard? Caspian should try sitting on his royal arse for days on end and see how he likes it. He's as bad about staying busy as she is! How many times did he sneak into the castle kitchen after missing meals? How many nights does he stay up to all hours with his generals or his lords or whatever he has here?
"I wouldn't have slept anyway," Addie argues. "Was it so wrong of me to want to be helpful?"
She stomached the first few days because her body gave her little choice. Suddenly, now that her body is cooperating again, she can't be trusted to know her limits?
Addie glowers down at her lap. Who can know her limits better than herself? Rainroot may be a healer, and a good one at that, but she's not in Addie's body. She doesn't know, she's just making educated guesses.
Caspian clenches his jaw, his hand stilling in her hair. "Did I not tell you that the most helpful thing you can do is heal? Everything else comes second. Rainroot agrees."
Addie's eyes snap up. Caspian's talking like she's being unreasonable. As if there's something wrong with trying to earn her keep.
"I'm healing just fine. I don't need to be cooped up like some pet falcon."
The edge in Caspian's eyes softens, his thumb tracing her cheek before settling at the pulse point under her jaw.
"Falcons with broken wings don't fly," he murmurs. "Wait another three days. Rainroot said you shouldn't push yourself."
Rainroot also drugged her.
"I know my limits."
Caspian's frown returns. "Clearly not."
Awkward silence follows. Caspian doesn't break the staring contest, and if he's not backing down then Addie can't either. Injured wing or not, she can match Caspian in a battle of wills.
It takes less than a minute for Addie's body to work against her. It's not that she's tired, it's that the sedative is still running thick in her veins and it's nighttime again and Caspian's hand is a warm weight on her neck.
Addie's eyelids flicker, and she loses the battle.
"Come," Caspian says, quieter. "You need to eat."
Addie blinks herself back to alertness. "When's the last time you ate?"
"Midday, when you should have." The weight of Caspian's hand vanishes as he pulls away, reaches behind him, and produces a bowl of stew. "I tried to rouse you."
Addie sips her dinner instead of answering. A small, ugly part of her hopes Caspian worried enough to order Rainroot not to use sedatives again.
Dinner passes in a silence neither of them elects to break. Now that Addie is mostly conscious, it's harder to ignore the cloud hanging over them.
Eventually, they'll have to talk about the escape. For now, she can be forgiven for savouring what scraps of tentative peace they still have.
A/N: Taking bets on how long they can keep up this "fragile, tentative peace." What do we think, 3 chapters? 1? 4?
Chapter 29 Preview:
"What will it take," Caspian says lowly, "for you to do as I ask?"
"You're not asking," Addie bites back.