Disclaimer: I do not own The Tairen Soul Series by C.L. Wilson. However, I do own non-canon magic and Angela, etc.

I'm writing this chapter for Slytherinbed since hers was the first review I've had in three years. I just read a review from Caffeinated, Imperial, and Steph. God Bless Y'all for being sweet and liking Angela and Cyr's touching love.

I write this for us. Stories are a kindness during this Pandemic.

P.S. Ivan Dew was contrived—he represents everything Angela fears in a man. Aside from her dear brother. She is inexperienced with good men. Decent men. Kind men. I hope to remedy that in a gentleman.


Ch. XV: Healing

Angela sighed painfully as her brow was gently wiped with a handkerchief. Blearily, she cracked an eyelid open.

"L-Lady Jisera?" Angela mumbled.

"Aiyah, Angela." The kindly fellana, whispered, relieved. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused and tired." Angela admitted. "How long have I been here?"

"A day," Jisera acknowledged, surprising her.

« Angela! » Cyr's hoarse voice called. Startled, the young woman reached for him across their bond.

« Shei'tan. » Angela told him tiredly. « I'm in our bed, being attended to. Please, worry not. I didn't feel very well today. »

Cyr's stress was nearly palpable.

Angela shuddered. Her head pounded.

"Las, ajiana." Jisera gently told her. "Eat this," she held a soup spoon to Angela's lips. Obediently, she sipped the nourishment. She had so little energy.

What's going on? She asked her tairen.

Ask if the Fey can sense anything first. Varenia mumbled. I just feel exhausted.

"Do you know what' wrong with us?" Angela asked, in-between bites.

"Nei," answered Jisera, frustrated. "Your symptoms act like you've sustained poison."

"Poison?" Angela echoed, frowning.

We've not been poisoned….unless, Varenia whispered. Ask what happens to the Fey if they've got sel'dor? I thought they burned?

Angela echoed the question.

Jisera shuddered. "It's possible," her gaze unfocused for a moment, thinking.

"Are you cold?" Asked the lovely fellana.

In answer, the red-haired young woman shivered.

Jisera immediately suffused Angela with Fire weaves and said something to a fellana servant. The servant left, surprising Angela into shame that she did not sense her.

"Teska," Jisera said gently, "see if you can rise."

Blinking, Angela was loathe to leave her lukewarm bed. Shivering, she realized she was sweaty.

Startled, "Did I have fever?" She asked.

"Aiyah," Jisera answered, concerned, as she helped Angela with her covers. Angela blushed.

"Nei," Jisera chastised gently. "We are all ill sometimes, kem'falla."

Angela grimaced. "Cyr says the same thing." She muttered. Biting her lip, she looked at Jisera nervously. "H-have you been…with your shei'tan very long?" She gulped, embarrassed. Oh you pacheeta! She's a highborn! Don't talk!

Rather than seem insulted, Jisera smiled brightly. "Aiyah!" She giggled. "We've been bonded for 13 years." She straightened Angela, keeping her mind from her troubles as she led her to the steaming bath.

Angela's eyes rounded.

"But-but you're my age!" She exclaimed, taken aback, feeling inexperienced and shy.

Jisera laughed. "I'm actually 440-years-old but; in Celierian terms, aiyah." Her gentle manner softened as she looked at Angela knowingly.

"Here," said Jisera warmly, as she had prepared a towel for Angela to sit on. Embarrassed, the young woman followed obediently as Jisera coaxed her to remove her rose-colored nightdress.

Jisera gasped, horrified.

Angela's face was on fire and her eyes welled with tears.

"K-kem'falla!" Jisera whispered, stunned. "Wh-what happened to you?!"

"It happened…from those…priests." Angela whispered. "And…my tairen said there were Mages…but I…can't remember that since I was so young…I just remember all these strange men. Su-surrounding me…with…needles."

She remembered the pain and blinked back tears.

Angela shuddered. She knew the deep vee of scars on her shoulder blades were unnatural. With a sick sense of intuition...she realized the baby tairen wings…were hers.

Jisera's eyes were freely tearing up and she had a hesitant hand reaching for Angela's scars. There were smaller, strategically placed scars where manacles and defensive wounds were on her body.

Shivering Angela submerged in the steaming water.

"Cyr doesn't know." Angela continued, shuddering. "I—I just…can't." She turned her face away, bursting into tears. She could feel Cyr's worry; but she blocked his voice, ashamed.

All of a sudden, golden shei'dahlin weaves wrapped around her, and a warm arm went around her shoulders. Jisera didn't seem to care as she sat in all her finery next to the scarred woman, she hugged her naked figure.

"Your body is healing." Jisera soothed tenderly, holding Angela close. Angela stiffened at first, then shuddered and leaned into her. "You are beautiful, Angela." Angela sniffed. "Cyr says that…at, at Norban." Angela gave a visceral shudder. "I didn't have red hair. I didn't know I was…half-Fey…I don't know how to read…I don't know what to do." For some reason, Angela spoke.

Jisera listened; never rushed her, patiently held her close. Angela sank deeper into the water, and clung to her. Telling her everything.

It was different than when she was with Lady Marrisya. She didn't know if she would've opened up quite like this. It was more than having a friend. It was almost like having a sister. Once she began…she. Could. Not. Stop.

She told Jisera her insecurities. She mentioned her body image and how she didn't think she was beautiful. She had never kissed a boy; much less a man before. She wanted to understand what a matebond meant outside of what she saw at home in Norban. All the women spoke of favors. She did not know what that was. However, Cyr was deeply offended she brought that up. She had no home to return to. She felt like a charity case. She felt so shy and bashful. She wanted to hide inside the suite in the stuffy heat if it meant she wouldn't feel alone and exposed. She wanted to see the sun; but feared the pitying stares. She thought she was dumb. She thought she was meaningless. She felt insecure because of her upbringing.

Why would Cyr want her? He is everything she is not: genteel, cultured, gentlemanly, a warrior, attracted to her. Experienced.

But why? She wondered. All she saw was strange, red hair. Her figure is unclean and she is spindly everywhere. Her ribs still show. Her eyes are too large. Her bottom too wide and her calves are huge. Her arms are too long. Her breasts are fairly small.

Why on earth and in heaven would he be interested in her? He said he was very much interested in her. He gives her gifts that she adores. She wanted to wear his headband he made her. She wanted to be a good shei'tani; but what does that actually mean? Her own parents had such tension between them. Life was very hard in Norban. She is too sensitive. She still has the strange tears and feels so lost and alone here. Despite everything, she does not want to return to Norban or the forest.

"The only comfort was green and pink are my favorite colors." She said softly. "The forest had a lot of that with peonies." She shuddered, and clamped her hand to her mouth.

Jisera tenderly pulled her into her arms.

"You're a blessing to us all." She countered, finally speaking. "You're safe, Angela." She whispered back. "Your figure is lovely." Jisera said sternly in Angela's ear. "You know about tailoring to the body. We all don't like something of ourselves. Your hair is bright and shining. Your soul is soft and sweet. We Fey, we look at the soul of the person. You've saved four lives in ways you'll never know." And I'm finally with child because of your blessing. She thought; but wisely decided not to mention it.

Pulling back she stared hard into Angela's red face.

"She'tanista bonding is both passionate and kind." She began. "Both sides have to work at it. I guarantee you, Cyr is a deeply reserved gentleman…yet, he was chosen by the gods to be yours." She took a steadying breath. "He will desire you; and you, him. It's natural."

She proceeded to ask Angela intimate questions; which Angela blushed; but obediently answered. Jisera taught Angela which products were for what at the edge of the bath and on the vanity. She helped Angela bathe and used Fire weaves to dry them.

Leading Angela's to the vanity mirror, she said her down and placed a warm towel to her hair and spoke.

"Look," She told her. "Really look at yourself: you've got the softest skin and the clearest complexion." She smiled tenderly at her. "You've never seen a mirror before?"

Angela shook her head, blushing and staring at herself. She was still naked; but realized she did not mind in front of someone "her age."

Jisera smiled softly. She brushed Angela's hair and plaited it. She brought Angela's clean rose-colored nightdress for her to wear and helped her change. Angela blushed, but Jisera hugged her, close.

She glanced at the window. It had just rained.

Too wet outside to eat. She took into consideration Angela's affinity for remaining inside. While they were in the en suite, servants changed the bedding and brought in a table of hot foods for the two young women to eat.

Angela felt hungry. Her stomach rumbling. Her eyes landed on the Feyan finery and Jisera waited patiently as she led her to it. They ate in companionable silence. The weight and the wait for Angela was becoming heavier thoughts than she was used to.

"I need to let you rest." Jisera looked at her closely, "but you really ought to speak with your shei'tan. He was very worried about you."

Angela nodded once. Her pensive thoughts becoming clear. She felt guilty for ignoring him. But she also blushed and whispered. "Belah vo."

Jisera smiled and gave her a sisterly hug from behind.

"The food will remain here all night should you need it." Angela could sense the warming charms and hugged Jisera back.

Standing, the fellana helped Angela to bed and told her she would check on her first thing in the morning.

Leaving Angela, she immediately went in search of both her shei'tan and Ravel in order to research on Angela's ailments.

The young woman, slowly got out of bed.

She needed something of Cyr's. It felt wrong.

But her eyes fell on his plain, brown tunic.

It smelled like him.

She dared not rummage through his trunk further.

Taking his tunic she smelled it. Comforted.

Angela slipped it over her head and sighed.

« Shei'tan? »