Against The World

Chapter 151: Her Spot

Aurelia stayed for breakfast.

I did not realize what had changed until Beatrice asked whether we would be needing another cup.

Our guest sat beside the window with Carol on her knee.

Morning light fell across her gown.

She had been there when we woke.

Not waiting in a dream.

Not arriving with a flicker of gold.

There.

“Yes,” Evelyn said.

Beatrice looked at the table.

“Another plate?”

Aurelia lifted her head.

“If there is enough.”

Beatrice gave her the expression she reserved for particularly foolish questions about food.

Then went to fetch one.

I tried not to stare.

I failed.

Aurelia noticed while buttering a piece of bread.

“What?”

“You’re still here.”

“Yes.”

“Since last night.”

“Yes, Uriah.”

Evelyn put down her cup.

“Did you sleep?”

“For part of it.”

“In the chair?”

“It is a very comfortable chair.”

Garrick, seated on his grandfather’s lap, slapped the table.

Aurelia looked at him.

“I agree. We should discuss something else.”

Lord Garrick smiled.

“I could make you a bed.”

She stopped spreading the butter.

It was such an ordinary offer.

For a moment, nobody seemed to know what to do with it.

Then Aurelia said, “I think I would like that.”

Helena took over before I could offer a room that lacked a chimney or had been filled with old saddles.

“There’s the room beside the little south sitting room.”

Evelyn looked toward her.

“The one with the green curtains?”

“They’ve faded, but the windows are sound.”

“Mother.”

“What?”

“We can replace curtains.”

“I know. I was describing the room.”

Aurelia watched them with a small, uncertain smile.

I knew that smile.

She had worn it when Garrick first showed her the chair.

When something was being made for her, and she had not yet decided whether she was allowed to want it.

“Would you like to see?” Evelyn asked.

Aurelia nodded.

The room had two windows and a hearth that needed sweeping.

There was an old bedstead, a wardrobe, and a table with one leg shorter than the others.

Helena pressed her palm against the wall near the window.

“Dry.”

Garrick crouched beside the bed.

“I can repair this.”

Aurelia stood in the middle of the room.

I waited beside the door.

“You can choose another.”

She turned toward the window.

From there, she could see part of the lower garden.

One of the little pear trees had begun to lose its leaves.

“No,” she said. “This is lovely.”

Carol reached toward the curtain.

Evelyn moved her away from it.

Our daughter objected.

Aurelia smiled.

“The curtains appear to have an advocate.”

“They’ll survive until we decide,” Helena said.

I was less certain.

We left her there with Evelyn and the children while I went to council.

Mary looked up when I entered.

“You’re late.”

“We were finding Aurelia a bedroom.”

Her pen stopped.

“Oh.”

I sat down.

For once, she did not immediately continue with the next matter.

“Will she be able to use it?”

“She thinks so.”

Mary looked toward the window.

Then made a note.

“What are you writing?”

“That the south room is occupied.”

I leaned back.

“Yes,” I said. “It is.”

The account from Tern Reach lay ready for review.

Mary had included the words spoken at the shrine, the instructions Nereth gave, and what we had witnessed beneath the tower.

Tilda’s recovered bronze join rested in a padded box beside it.

There would be copies for Valea and Orselle’s council.

Aurelia had asked that Enna receive a letter telling her the restraint had ended.

She had not yet decided how widely she wanted the rest shared.

We could wait for that.

The Castellan stood at the end of the table.

“Two remain,” he said.

I nodded.

There was no comfort in pretending otherwise.

But the words felt different today.

Mary closed the Tern Reach account before opening the next book.

“The granary roof,” she said.

I looked at the figures.

The roof, apparently, had remained unimpressed by our success against a god.

Nessa returned that afternoon.

She brought her apprentice, an empty medicine chest, and a complaint about the springs on the wagon.

Cael met her at the infirmary.

Evelyn and I arrived while she was unpacking.

“Davren?” my wife asked.

“Sleeping through most nights. Eating. His hands are steadier.”

“And his blessing?”

“Stronger.”

Evelyn let out a breath.

Nessa looked at her.

“I still can’t tell you everything that caused it to weaken.”

“No.”

“But I can tell you that a man who falls asleep standing up has other problems worth attending to.”

Cael took the empty chest.

“Who’s with him now?”

“The relief healer arrived before we left. His niece cried when she realized she could go home for an entire afternoon.”

Nessa folded her cloak.

“Then she went.”

Mina was sitting by the infirmary window.

Her brother occupied the next chair, reading something aloud with considerable effort.

He stopped when he saw Evelyn.

Mina did not.

She was drawing.

My wife crouched beside her.

“How are the legs today?”

“Better than yesterday.”

“Good.”

“I walked to the window.”

Her brother opened his mouth.

“With help,” Mina added quickly.

Evelyn smiled.

“That still counts.”

Ilyen joined us, carrying a folded blanket.

They spoke for a few minutes about the morning’s care.

I understood enough to hear the progress.

And enough to hear what remained uncertain.

Then Mina held up the page.

She had drawn her brother falling off a stool.

He looked wounded.

“That only happened once.”

“It was very loud,” she said.

Evelyn worked with Ilyen for the rest of the afternoon.

I stayed long enough to carry clean water and discover that my wife’s growing skill had not reduced the infirmary’s need for people who could carry clean water.

When I returned with the second basin, an apprentice stood beside her.

Evelyn held a narrow thread of light between her hands.

“Here,” she said.

The apprentice leaned closer.

“Do you feel where it begins to spread?”

“I think so.”

“Don’t push harder. Hold it there.”

I watched her wait.

A few months ago, she would have looked toward Ilyen for reassurance.

Now Ilyen stood nearby, letting her teach.

Evelyn glanced up and caught me watching.

I set down the basin.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She did not believe me.

She was right.

Aurelia’s room acquired clean bedding before supper.

The curtains remained.

Garrick repaired the bedstead and took the uneven table away, returning with it after removing a surprising number of unnecessary pieces of wood from beneath one foot.

Someone had been correcting the wobble for years.

Badly.

Helena placed a water jug on the table.

Evelyn brought the copied account of the eleven survivors.

Aurelia laid it in the drawer herself.

I stood by the hearth with a small lamp.

“Where would you like this?”

She looked around.

“Beside the bed.”

I put it there.

Then realized we had begun furnishing the room around her preferences without anyone asking whether the room was useful to the kingdom.

I liked that very much.

After supper, Valea’s letter arrived through the gate.

She had read Mary’s copy of the account twice.

She wanted to keep one at the shrine.

She also wanted permission to tell the families who used the house what had happened.

Not as a sermon.

In answer to their questions.

Aurelia sat beside Evelyn while I read the letter aloud.

When I finished, she was quiet.

“Would you prefer to wait?” my wife asked.

“No.”

Aurelia looked toward the folded page.

“She stood beside me. She should be able to say why.”

“And the people who still pray to Nereth?”

“They may.”

Her voice was steady.

“I won’t ask them to pretend they have never found comfort there.”

I nodded.

Mary would have an answer to send in the morning.

Later, Evelyn found me outside Aurelia’s room.

The door was closed.

I had not knocked.

“What are you doing?”

“Wondering whether she needs anything.”

“Did you ask her?”

“Before she went in.”

“What did she say?”

“That she would tell us.”

My wife slipped her hand into mine.

We stood in the corridor.

Somewhere below, a door shut.

Footsteps passed on the stair.

“She has a room,” Evelyn said.

“Yes.”

“And a door.”

I looked at it.

Then at her.

“You are enjoying this.”

“A little.”

She drew me away.

In the nursery, Garrick had managed to pull himself upright against the side of a low chest.

Helena knelt close behind him.

My son looked astonished by his own height.

Then delighted.

Then uncertain about what happened next.

“Oh,” Evelyn said.

We stopped together.

Garrick turned toward her voice.

His knees wobbled.

Helena’s hands hovered near his sides.

He lowered himself abruptly onto the blanket.

For a moment, he sat very still.

Then he laughed.

Evelyn crossed the room and knelt beside him.

I followed.

Our son immediately began trying to stand again.

Apparently the experiment required confirmation.

Carol watched from beside the nurse.

She had a wooden ring in one hand.

When Garrick reached the chest a second time, she struck the floor with it.

Whether this was encouragement or a demand for attention remained unclear.

I moved to sit beside her.

She leaned against my leg.

Evelyn looked over her shoulder.

“Did you see his face?”

“Yes.”

“We should write it down.”

I thought of the letter in our drawer.

The fish.

The first determined reaches.

All the things that had seemed too small to trust to memory alone.

“I’ll get the pen.”

When we finally left the nursery, light showed beneath Aurelia’s door.

This time, Evelyn knocked.

“Come in.”

Aurelia sat in bed with the account of the survivors open on her knees.

The blanket lay over her feet.

The little lamp burned beside her.

For a moment, I forgot why we had come.

Then Evelyn smiled.

“Garrick stood.”

Aurelia lowered the page.

“By himself?”

“He pulled himself up on the chest.”

“And stayed?”

“For a little while.”

Her face brightened.

“Tell me.”

We sat at the foot of the bed.

Evelyn described his expression.

I described the landing.

We disagreed about whether Carol had applauded.

Aurelia listened to all of it.

Then she asked us to tell her again how he had laughed.

When we rose to leave, she put the page into the drawer.

I paused beside the lamp.

“Would you like it left burning?”

“Yes, please.”

Evelyn kissed her cheek.

I bent and did the same.

Aurelia caught my hand before I straightened.

“Good night, Uriah.”

“Good night.”

We stepped into the corridor.

I closed the door gently.

The light remained beneath it.

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