Warrior (77 page)

entered, ready to balm her skin before

they bandaged her for burial. He’d

found Loki and taken him for a brisk

night ride, trying to forget if only

briefly that his mother was dead, and

that if she hadn’t died, his brother’s

wife and child might have been dead.

When he returned, the maids had

cleared Lydia’s room, and the white

gauze that indicated the deceased was

all he could see of his mother. No fire

had been lit, as the cold would keep

the body, but the moonlight streaming

into the high window made it possible

for him to make his way around the

room.

He’d paced, he’d sat, he’d braced

himself against the wall, run his hand

through his hair, cursed. Hours later,

his mind raced with possibilities. He

thought of the times he’d spoken to

his mother, of what she’d told him.

He remembered her asking him about

his rule of Lytheria, and the glitter

he’d seen in her eyes. He was

shocked he hadn’t been aware of it

before now. That look in her eyes had

not been happiness, but anticipation.

Perhaps he’d always known it, but

he’d never imagined she would go as

far as she had to take for him a throne

that was not rightfully his. To drug his

brother’s wife, and attempt to poison

her? He’d never thought his mother

capable of plotting something so

heinous!

With a thump, he folded his long

frame onto an opulently padded chair.

He closed his eyes, ran a hand

through his hair, and shook his head.

He had not wanted the throne!

His eyes moved back to the

wrapped body. Had he given her any

indication that he had?

***

Vulcan had left his wife’s chambers

only a handful of times and those

were for absolute necessities. He’d

removed his armor and had freshened

himself quickly, before returning to

her side. Anhur had long since left for

the Sanctuary, leaving Vulcan with

instructions to send for him if anything

changed in her condition. A healer

had been sent for and appeared

frequently to check on his queen.

Hours had passed since she’d fallen

into that sleep, and nothing had

changed. Her lids still flickered, and

occasionally she turned her head to

the side, but she did not open her

eyes. He would have done anything,

would have given his kingdom, to see

her open those golden eyes and smile

at him.

One of the servants had pushed a

chair closer to her bed for him, and he

sat there, holding her hand as the

healer examined her. She was an

older woman with greying hair. She

would check his wife’s pulse and lay a

hand on her belly for a few moments

before moving away and sitting in the

chair next to the wall. As it grew later

into the night, and still she did not

wake, Vulcan began to panic. She had

to live! The Gods couldn’t be that

cruel, to give him a glimpse of love

and take it away before he fully

explored it.

“Jaisyn,” he began softly, squeezing

her hand in his, before bringing it to

his lips. He moved closer to her,

leaning his head down so that his lips

were beside her ear. “Jaisyn—don’t

leave me.” He felt his eyes sting, and

was surprised to feel the drop of liquid

that ran down his cheek. He hadn’t

cried in over twenty years and had

forgotten how it felt to feel so

helpless. “I need you. I love you. I’m

—” He paused and drew in a deep

breath, and his eyes moved down the

pronounced swell of her belly. He

remembered his accusations, how

he’d thought she was scheming to

place Malcolm’s child on his throne,

how he’d used her callously because

of his anger and hurt. He’d been

wrong. So wrong. “I’m so sorry for

not listening to you or trusting you.

You have to come back to me.”

Brushing aside the lone tear, he

moved his hand over to her belly,

cloaked by her gown and the fresh

covers that had been brought to her

chambers, but still casting soft outline.

“Give me a dozen little girls with your

smile, sons with your stubborn

courage—” His voice broke and he

paused to clear his throat. “Just come

back to me. I swear that I will love

and cherish you as you deserve.”

He sniffled and lowered his face to

her neck. Her hair had been pulled up

to give her greater comfort. Vulcan

did not know how long he remained in

that position, but he must have dozed

off because when next he opened his

eyes, Jaisyn was struggling against the

bed and the healer was urgently

calling out to him. He was awake in

an instant, shooting from his chair and

staring down at his wife. Her eyes

were still closed but her neck kept

snapping forward.

The healer immediately reached for

the chamber pot and rolled her onto

her side. Vulcan understood. He lifted

her slightly, finger sifting into her thick

hair as he turned her head over the

pot. She began to retch violently.

“Guards!” Vulcan yelled, holding

her and rubbing her back as she

emptied the contents of her stomach

into the chamber pot. Four guards

rushed in, took a look at the scene in

the room and awaited their orders.

“Bring Anhur to me!”

They went about doing so.

When the retching stopped, Vulcan

was terrified. Jaisyn continued to dry

heave before she finally collapsed

against him. The healer wiped at her

lips with a damp cloth and Vulcan

rested her back against the bed. Her

eyelids lifted a fraction and she began

to shake violently.

The healer lifted her hand to

Jaisyn’s forehead and her eyes were

sad as she shook her head.

“’Tis fever, liege,” she said softly,

moving away from Jaisyn and over to

the fireplace, where she’d left a pouch

full of herbs. “She’s cold to touch.”

Vulcan touched her forehead and

immediately began to pull the covers

over her body. She was cold.

Freezing.

Anhur entered then, took a look at

the healer on the ground with her

herbs, at Jaisyn who was still shaking

violently, at Vulcan staring hopefully

at him, and approached the queen.

“Lift her head,” he told Vulcan

quickly, and the king did as he asked.

He trusted Anhur, especially after

what the Seer had told him. Anhur

pried her lips apart and pressed a vial

against her lips.

“You must drink, Jaisyn,” he

whispered softly, tilting the vial.

Vulcan held her head steady, and

Anhur rubbed at her throat and

pinched her nose until she swallowed

and coughed.

Minutes later, Jaisyn’s shaking

stopped and the healer approached

her, a cup filled with her mixtures for

a fever. Anhur stepped aside and

nodded to Vulcan, who was glaring at

both cup and the healer in distrust.

Lifting Jaisyn’s head, the healer

gradually fed her the mixture before

moving back to her chair.

Vulcan pushed back a few stray

tendrils of hair from Jaisyn’s face and

addressed Anhur. “Have the Gods

allowed you to see if she will live?”

Anhur’s countenance was grave as

he replied. “Yes, they have.”

***

Jaisyn came awake with a small

gasp and began to struggle. Her hands

clawed at the covers and her mouth

opened in a silent scream. Vulcan,

who lay beside her, sat up and gently

restrained her flailing arms. After

hours of laboring with Vulcan to bring

her temperature up, and hours of

doing the same only to bring her

temperature back down, the healer

had retired for a few hours of rest.

“Jaisyn,” he called softly, placing his

face directly above hers. Her eyelids

fluttered and her golden irises were

staring up into his concerned gaze.

“You’re safe.”

She swallowed and released a deep

breath. Her eyes focused on him

briefly and her body relaxed. She

drifted off once more.

Vulcan laid his hand against her

forehead.
Warm
.

He stared long and hard at her face.

Relaxed
.

Shifting ever so slightly, he leaned

back

against

the

pillows,

and

continued to stare at his wife. Anhur

had told him that if Jaisyn survived the

fever, all would be well. His hope

surged when she opened her eyes and

looked at him, but he was cautious.

His wife wasn’t safe yet. Until she did

something to indicate that she was

strong again, he would remain where

he was.

***

After grueling hours, wondering if

he would ever be able to hold his wife

again or see his child take its first

breath, Vulcan watched as Jaisyn

attained and held consciousness. It

was early in the morning and the

healer had spoon-fed her some gruel

before allowing her to rest once more.

She’d retreated to her chair, and was

silently working on her needlework,

when the queen began to toss and

turn.

Vulcan, who’d closed his eyes

briefly after the healer had told him

Jaisyn was doing much better,

hovered over her. He and the healer

both watched as Jaisyn’s lips moved

and parted. Her throat worked and the

healer immediately went over to the

tray and grabbed a cup of water.

Lifting her head, Vulcan watched as

the healer put the cup to Jaisyn’s lips

and she began to drink on her own.

A bright smile illuminated the

healer’s face and Vulcan could not

explain the elation that went through

his body.

Jaisyn drank most of the water and

a long sigh escaped her lips before the

groans kicked in. She sounded as if

she were in pain.

“What

is

happening?”

Vulcan

demanded, cradling her against him.

Her face was bunched, and she tried

to turn from him.

The healer nodded before turning to

face him. “Most who wake from fever

’ave some type of muscle ache. I fetch

a mixture that help.” She was already

heading for the pouch and pulling

leaves from it.

“Vulcan.”

It was such a soft whisper that at

first he believed it a figment of his

imagination. When she called his

name once more, his heart swelled as

he leaned in to her.

“I am here.” He cleared his throat,

trying to unlock the emotions that had

gathered there. “You are safe.”

Her eyes did not open but she

continued to whisper. “The baby?”

He leaned down and kissed her

forehead. “The baby is fine. Are you

in pain?”

A rush of breath escaped her lips

and her breathing evened once more.

The healer returned to his side with

the foul-smelling potion. Vulcan held

Jaisyn up as the healer fed her the

brew.

***

Isolde barely got an hour’s worth of

sleep. After seeing Lydia’s body in

Varian’s arms, she’d rushed to her

sister’s chambers, only to be barred

from entering by the numerous guards

that stood outside the doorway. Even

Anne and Jane had been told they

would have to sleep elsewhere. She’d

searched out Magda and Asha, who’d

looked grave, and had been busy

bustling about the kitchens only to

rush back to her sister’s room. Finding

no answers from them, she’d gone to

Lydia’s rooms, only to find that there

were guards stationed outside that

door as well. Her brain had swirled

with possibilities, but she’d ended up

returning to her room, where her

anxious sister awaited her. In her

heart, she knew that something had