Chapter 176: Low Intensity, High Reps

My hearing returned first. Everything remained black and fuzzy, as though I was floating through a cloud at midnight, but finally voices penetrated the darkness.

“ ... right?”

“I don’t ... but the ... promised!”

“ ... what if ... not necessary ... word.”

It was confusing; the words were jumbled, as though coming from very far away through an echo chamber. In the blackness, it didn’t even occur to me to wonder who the voices belonged to.

There was a long pause, in which I just started to ponder if I’d somehow gone deaf. The next voice irritated me for some reason I couldn’t remember, even as the words became more clear.

“ ... give to ... sweet.”

“ ... She ... love ... afterall.”

“Yes, Fergus.” Fergus! I remembered Fergus. He was ... he was... “More than anyone ever loved someone.”

There was a snort, which brought to mind a scarred face, dark hair, and a sneer. Then a door slammed, and I heard a sigh.

“You’re sure she’s just sleeping?” The words were becoming clearer, and I realised I knew that voice – Aedan. My brother.

“Seeing as I am capable of controlling which spells I cast, yes. I’m sure. She should wake soon.” That voice was less familiar, and I tried to frown as I thought about who it could be. The attempt brought the fact that I had a face – and that I could feel my face – to the forefront of my attention, so I missed the next words.

“You’re sure he will recover?” That got my attention: recover? As though someone was ill ... I developed an urge to scratch my nose, something I knew I did when trying to remember things, a habit Alistair had teased me about more than once.

Alistair. Suddenly memories came rushing back: Crows, Dera, a ship ... Alistair. A desperate attempt to heal a horrific injury. The next words seemed like they might be the most important words I’d ever hear.

“I’m not saying it will be easy. I’ve repaired his liver and the lacerated vessels, stopped the infection, but he lost a lot of blood, and had days worth of toxins building up in his tissues; I can’t just undo that, magic or not. If I’d been here sooner ... but we can’t change that. It’s going to take time to work those out of his system, and then he will need time to need to repair the damaged and atrophied muscles. It’s going to be hard work, and probably painful for a while. And it was too late to do anything about the scarring – the potions, while they kept him alive long enough for you to bring me here, sealed the skin together rather ... unfortunately.

“But for all that, look at him. His colour is back, and even in his sleep he’s clinging to her like rashvine. He’ll be fine.”

The realisation that Alistair was alright triggered a flood of tears even in my barely conscious state. I wanted to sob, really, and probably would have if I’d had any control over my body. It was more than I’d dared to hope for, despite Aedan’s promises. Combined with the knowledge that more than likely, I was the ‘she’ they were talking about, and that not only the healer, Larus, but also my brother were watching us sleep together, the rest of the world flooded back in. Suddenly I could feel the tears trickling down my face, the strong arms wrapped around me, the warmth of a large body pressed against me; I could smell the soap I’d used to wash Alistair while he was unconscious, and deeper, the scent that was unique to him – without the sickly undertone of illness that I hadn’t even registered before.

Opening my eyes was a challenge; they felt gritty and glued shut, and my eyelids were far heavier than two tiny bits of skin had any right to be. Before I managed it, I heard Aedan exclaim, and his warm hand wrap around mine.

“Sierra?”

The light was bright when I finally managed to pry my eyes open, and I blinked owlishly. “Really, everyone has got to stop drugging me, or spelling me to sleep. I mean it!” I scowled at my brother, and he burst out laughing, squeezing my hand, his voice strangely high and verging on hysteria.

“Thank the Maker!”

I smiled, always grateful for my sweet, caring brother – but I had other things that needed my urgent attention. So, I left him to his celebrating, as he turned and slapped Larus on the back rather harder than necessary, and instead I peered up at the warm, immobile shape of my husband – who was curled around me, his arms locked tightly around my torso, hugging me to him like I was a giant teddy bear and he a frightened toddler. His face was lax, his mouth slightly open as he snored softly, but his breaths came easily, his complexion was no longer yellow, and while he was definitely warm, there was no sign of the fever he’d suffered from for days. He was still covered in bandages, but he was beautiful, and I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my face into his neck, trying to suppress the tears prickling my eyes.

When I looked away, I found two pairs of eyes watching me – one set belonging to the aloof healer with an inscrutable expression, and the other warm and green and sympathetic. I focused on Larus.

“You’re sure he’ll be okay?” I caught myself petting my husband’s arm, and couldn’t bring myself to stop even when it was clear the mage was staring. At the sound of my voice, Alistair shifted and pulled me closer.

Larus nodded, a flash of irritation on his haughty features. “You heard what I said a few moments ago?” I nodded. He sneered. “Quite sure.”

I knew the tension coiled in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t relax until I saw Alistair awake with my own eyes, but something frozen inside me thawed at his stiff nod, and my eyes fluttered shut with tears of gratitude. “Thank you.”

I didn’t even hear them leave as I fell back asleep, curled in my husband’s arms.

When I woke the next time, I felt decidedly less wretched; my eyes weren’t burning, and my body felt distinctly corporeal, instead of distant and floaty. I was comfortable and warm, and someone was gently stroking my hair.

I opened my eyes and looked directly into a pair of gorgeous, hazel ones that I’d thought I might never see again. Alistair was smiling at me, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and I gasped as tears sprang to my eyes.

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered. “No, no, don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

I choked, unable to decide whether to laugh or shout. “Of course I’m okay! I wasn’t the one who tried to get myself killed, you big jerk.” He laughed; I wanted to punch him in the shoulder, but remembering the healer’s words about muscle damage, I restrained myself. A tear escaped despite his words and my best efforts, rolling silently down my cheek; he tugged me towards him, and before I knew it our lips met.

It wasn’t a kiss of passion, like so many we’d shared, but despite that I could feel myself shuddering against him, my breath coming out in great sobs. He just held me, his lips brushing against mine gently over and over again until I’d cried out all of my fear, my hopelessness and guilt and despair flooding out of me with every tear. Finally I pulled away, sniffling. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m sorry.” I could see he was telling the truth – stupid man that he was; rather than worrying about his own health, he was worried that he’d frightened me.

“I love you so much. You were so sick...”

He hushed me, his fingers in my hair soothing. His lips pressed kisses to my eyes, my nose, even my chin. “I love you too. Always.”

The two of us just laid there together, cuddling and kissing, until my bladder became a pressing issue I couldn’t ignore any longer. As I sat up, feeling stiff and a little sore, it became obvious that my discomfort was going to be the least of our worries. Alistair rolled onto his back and attempted to sit up – before flopping back down with a stifled cry and an oath.

“Alistair?” I leaned over him anxiously.

“Ow,” was all he seemed able to say, both arms crossed over his abdomen while he panted in pain.

I fluttered over him, feeling useless, too afraid to touch him, terrified of making it worse. He settled eventually and shot me an embarrassed smile, but that didn’t leave me feeling any better. “I’ll go get the healer.” I pushed up and then had to awkwardly climb over him; someone had clearly lifted me onto the bed and dropped me between Alistair and the wall, which was fine until I needed to get up. I moved slowly, carefully, terrified to hurt him.

Which, of course, triggered him to tease me, putting his hands on my hips and pursing his lips for a kiss – as though me on top of him was just what he was aiming for. I sputtered a laugh and climbed off, inelegantly, before rushing out to find Larus, bladder long forgotten.

I finally tracked the healer down in the galley with Aedan and Zevran; I accepted a long, relieved hug from my brother before begging Larus to come to our room. The healer stood and lifted a covered tray and a large water skin.

“I will go see him. Please stay here until I call for you.”

My mouth dropped open, shocked, but the healer was out the door and gone before I could even think of what I wanted to say to that. I looked to Aedan, who was apparently trying not to laugh, one hand covering his mouth.

“But ... but...”

“Give the poor man some privacy, sis. He’ll be mortified enough when he realises you’ve been taking care of him while he was sick.”

“He did it for me!” I squawked, irritated.

Zevran, who’d yet to make eye contact or join the conversation, finally looked up at me with a wry grin. “But you are not a man, cara mia. You do not have any...” he trailed off in thought. “Machismo. Do you know this word? You do not have to protect your machismo, yes? Let the poor man have his pride.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s just ... stupid,” I complained. “Like him wiping my ass is somehow less embarrassing than me wiping his.”

Aedan turned purple and covered his ears in horror, and Zevran and I both burst out laughing. I finally sank down into a chair beside the elf, leaning my head on his shoulder and smiling at my brother. “I never said thank you.”

I felt Zevran stiffen, but Aedan just looked at me in confusion.

“For bringing Larus,” I clarified. “Alistair would have died without the both of you. I’ll never be able to say how grateful I am.”

I wasn’t surprised – just saddened – when Zevran pulled away from me and stood, clearly heading for the door.

I was faster, and I slid into his path before he could run away from me. “Zevran.” I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.” I put my arms out so that he’d literally have to shove me out of the way to escape. Aedan closed on him from behind, wrapping his arms around the former Crow.

Zevran slumped, refusing eye contact and spinning away from Aedan, an air of ‘don’t touch me’ so clear he might as well have screamed it. “It is entirely my fault, in fact.” He finally looked me straight in the eyes, and I could see the guilt, the pain, the self-recrimination written on his face clearly. “I left the Crows. And I was not strong enough to walk away before they came for you. All of you.” He turned, seeming to crumple in on himself. “I knew it would happen. I know what the Crows are like. I knew they wouldn’t stop, that they’d use you to get to me. I was selfish – and Alistair paid the price. You almost paid the price.”