Chapter 15

The next time I fully awoke, I was back at the Islandrian castle. Between the attack and that time, I only had brief, confused memories. A dark Avivian woman strapping my arm painfully into a splint. Aria sobbing uncontrollably and Curtis patting her on the back. Having my face covered in a thick, foul-smelling paste, and being spoon fed broth.

When I was conscious, my pain returned in full measure. My whole head was throbbing and what was left of my skin felt tight, hot, itchy, and raw. Unable to move my left arm, I slowly raised my right hand to touch my face. All of the left side of my face was covered in a poultice, and most of my hair was burned away.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I let out a shuddering gasp. “Truly? Sweetheart, are you awake?” Mother rose from an armchair in the corner of my room. She looked dreadful, with dark circles under her eyes and hair snarled, as though she hadn’t brushed it in weeks.

I couldn’t talk. I began to cry but stopped quickly; it hurt too much. Mother sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed my right arm. “I am glad you are safe.” Mother said. She tried to smile, but it looked too difficult.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and Comfort came in from the next room. “Truly!” she cried, and ran toward me. I cringed, anticipating the pain that would surely come when she touched me. She seemed to understand and stopped herself. She patted my leg instead. “We were so worried about you.”

I nodded, but still was unable to speak. Images of the attack swam before my eyes, and I scrunched them shut, trying desperately to block out the screams still echoing inside my head. As much as I wanted to avoid crying, tears slowly seeped out of from between my eyelids. Mother kept patting my arm, and Comfort started saying meaningless phrases like, “It will all be okay,” and “At least you are safe.”

I don’t know how long we sat there like that, but after awhile, the plump court physician bustled in. He painfully scraped the paste off my face to examine my burns underneath, though I could tell he was attempting to be gentle, making “hmmm,” noises while he did so. He washed my face then applied more paste, and went about examining my arm. After that, he began tending the other scrapes and bruises I had sustained from being thrown from the horse. I must look terrible.

“Well, you are very lucky to be alive,” the physician said. “Everything should heal fine, and there won’t be any lasting damage. You will have some scarring, but not too much.”

I turned away from him. I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. Mother rose and walked him out. I heard their voices from behind the door but I didn’t care what they were saying. Let them talk about me.

Comfort stayed by my side, rubbing my leg, which was one of the few parts of me that wasn’t throbbing in pain. I looked around for Father. Surely, he would want to see me, and I hadn’t seen him since he took off toward the front of the column during the attack.

“Co—” my voice came out croaky and hoarse. I tried again, “Comfort.”

She snapped to attention. “Yes? What is it?”

“Father?” I asked weakly.

Comfort bit her lip, and her eyes began to water. She looked away from me and shook her head. “His funeral was yesterday,” she whispered.