CHAPTER FIVE
Felix wakes with a throat that feels like he swallowed a handful of burrs in the night. A few coughs only make it sting sharply and sips of water do little to help. It hurts to swallow the last of the bread, not that he’s at all hungry. Once that chore is done he goes out to the shrine and bows his head, which feels heavier than it did yesterday. It grows heavier still as morning drags on and unfocused prayers float around in it. The sun is bright, but chills roll through Felix’s body.
He’s trembling on his stone perch by the time he hears Cassandra call, “Good morning!”
He gives her a nod as she goes to the shack, then lowers his head again and tries to get his foggy mind to concentrate. It would be easier if his throat would stop burning.
“Your lunch is in the hearth, should be ready by noon,” Cassandra says when she reemerges.
Felix wishes she’d speak up, her voice sounds distant. A chill darts up his spine and shivers into his shoulders.
“Oh, would you like your cloak? It is colder today.”
He wants to protest Cassandra fetching and carrying like she’s his servant, but even if it was permitted he doesn’t think his raw throat would allow a word to emerge. In any case she’s already wrapped the cloak around him and now secures the clasp with her forearms resting on his shoulders and for a moment he actually feels good. It ends with the next chill, as if the cold snuck in under the cloak before Cassandra could stop it.
He waits for her to leave, but instead she crouches directly behind him. When he cranes around to see what’s happening, she meets his puzzled look with a smile. “I’ve commissioned boots for you. The cobbler needs measurements. It won’t take a minute, just stay still. Don’t let me bother you.”
At her nod toward the shrine Felix returns to his duties while his whole body tenses to stop trembling. Heat is fogging up his head, and his throat aches when he tries to swallow. He’s sick- it’s as obvious as it is unwelcome. Weeks of living on the road without a roof over his head have taken their toll at last.
“There, all done,” Cassandra declares, standing up and moving to his side, “As soon as they’re ready, they’ll be brought to you. So, good day.” She bobs a curtsey and vanishes.
Felix’s fever is growing and he’s soon gasping air as if that could cool it. Each unsteady breath stings his enflamed throat. He can’t stop his prayers from veering into pleas for relief from the gods, though their names blur to nonsense.
At some point thoughts of the lunch Cassandra prepared for him drift across his mind. She said it was in the hearth- he can’t let it burn. He totters off the stone and the world tilts like he’s standing on a ship’s deck in a gale. He smears cold sweat across his brow and tries to take a step, but ends up on his knees once again. Weariness surges out of his bones and his head drops against the stone’s cool surface. He has to get up. He has to be praying, or eating, or something. But all he can do is close his eyes and curl up in the hot darkness inside his head.
His village was razed to the ground. The sun was blotted out by smoke filled with screams and roars. He can still see it curling around the rafters of his house, while he huddles in a corner and tries to figure out what to do. Where’s Sam? Felix needs to find him, can’t go anywhere without him. But he’s not in the house, he’s not anywhere. And the war is coming.
Felix can’t find his staff so he has to crawl across the floor in search of his boy. A fresh volley of screams rush in from outside but all he can do is hunch his shoulders and keep moving. He stops short when he sees Cassandra cowering by the hearth, her fine dress stained with dirt and her beautiful eyes full of fear. Felix needs her. He can’t find Sam without her. He crawls forward until he can pull her close.
“Bow?”
He holds a finger to his lips. They can’t make a sound. The troops will hear them. They crawl together and soldiers tear the walls away, or maybe they just fall on their own. He and Cassandra keep moving, choking on dust and ash and smoke while massive fists swing above their heads.
“It’ll be all right. You’ll be all right. Come on,” Cassandra says though Felix tries to quiet her.
A tiny light glimmers through the chaos and Felix hurries toward it. It grows and he sees a person standing in it- a woman he thinks, her form silhouetted by shining sunbeams. She seems wholly unafraid of the rampaging monsters. She’s powerful, whoever she is. She’ll know where Sam’s gone. Felix crawls as fast as he can to reach her, but she holds up a hand. “Stop. Go back,” she says, though her voice is less a sound than a sensation that passes through him.
He can’t go back. Nothing’s left for him there but death. Death and... Cassandra. She’s not by his side anymore. He has to find her. Then they’ll find Sam. He turns around, and the ruined town seems even darker when the light flickers out. Where’s Cassandra? He crawls through the gloom, searching among the mountainous bulk of bodies.
“Bow? Open your eyes, look at me.”
He hears her voice- where is she? Shadows swarm and press in tighter. Deciding the enemy troops will find him no matter how little noise he makes, Felix tries to call Cassandra’s name, but his throat seizes up and throbs. He’s sick, he recalls. A sore throat. A fever. The shadows have congealed into solid blackness. So he does as Cassandra says, and opens his eyes.
Cassandra’s face slowly swims into focus. She beams down at him before her expression becomes stern. “You’re lucky I came back early to get your glove measurements. You would’ve been unconscious out there until evening. I’ve stopped sneaking up on you, will you please stop almost dying on me?”
Felix blinks at her while half his mind still crawls through smoke. She rolls her eyes and reaches for something- the chipped cup, which she brings to his lips.
“Drink. The honey will help.” Hot, sweet tea flows down his tender throat. Against his will he relaxes in Cassandra’s arms, for that’s the miraculous place he finds himself once again. She’s somehow dragged him into the shack, another miracle in itself. When he’s drained the cup, she sets it aside and gently lays him down on the blankets before going to build up the fire to a blaze. Between it, the cloak, and the blankets, the chills that wracked Felix’s body earlier dwindle to shivers.
He expects her to leave, and then when she picks up a book he waits for her to sit by the hearth. Instead she returns to him, lifting his head and settling it on her thigh. She reads silently with one hand resting on his chest, a small weight that does more to warm him than anything else. He was thinking about her before he woke, wasn’t he? All he remembers is darkness as he waited for death. But, there was a light, wasn’t there? Maybe.
He’s back to herb broth and water again, though he manages to hold the skin and bowl himself. After a while the pain in his throat is manageable and slight dizziness is all that remains of his fever.
Cassandra sighs above him, “I suppose I have to go. I’ll be missed at supper.” She fixes another stern look on Felix. “Now I want you to rest. Don’t sit out in the cold tomorrow. Take a day.”
He frowns. The worst of the illness has passed, there’s no reason he can’t perform his duty.
Cassandra tilts her head. “Right, I can see you won’t listen to me like a sensible man. If such a thing exists.” She glances up and back down at him. “You see the hourglass? Three turns. Then back inside where it’s warm, understand? I’ll be very upset if I come in the evening and find you at the shrine. Deal?”
Felix considers. It makes a small amount of sense that he should rest after a fever rendered him unconscious. He might build up his strength, to avoid further interruptions. And he can read his book, to better prepare himself for prayer. Yes, he’ll rest, and begin again stronger and more capable. He nods and is gifted with Cassandra’s wide smile. Her hand presses against his chest, almost pets him.
&nb
sp; “All right. Agreed. Three turns. Remember, we have a deal. Good bye, Bow.”
She rises, and he sits up to release her, somehow managing to catch her hand in his on the way. He decides he might as well show her his confusion while mouthing the word bow.
Cassandra rolls her eyes and shifts awkwardly. “Well, I have to call you something. So, Bow, like the bow you gave me. Which is beautiful, by the way. I keep wearing it, even though I know it’s all I’m going to get.”
Felix blinks, slightly ashamed that he didn’t think of rewarding her for coming to his rescue a second time. He reaches for the bag he left near his blankets, taking out the red bow and tucking it into her palm.
For some reason, this particular smile of hers sends a strange pulse through his body. “Thank you,” she murmurs, then squints at him, “Does this mean you’d prefer to be called Red? Or, Scarlet?”
If Felix’s throat was healthier, he might have actually laughed. Fortunately, it comes out as just a wheeze and small cough. He shakes his head. Bow is a fine name. Short and simple. He likes it, very much.
“All right then. I shall see you tomorrow.” Cassandra’s hand slips from his, forcing Felix to realize that he’s grasped it for far too long.
After she’s gone, he lays back on the blankets and watches the fire. Tries not to match flames to the curve of Cassandra’s smile. The lady’s beauty seems to only be eclipsed by her kindness. He can hardly believe she’s chosen to bestow it on him. He must honor his benefactor as he does the gods of the shrine. He’ll make a place for her among them, high above, out of reach. And he won’t ever think of the soft warmth of her hands, or her clear blue eyes that see so much of him, or her sweet voice leading him out of darkness.