Forfeited by R. J. Larson

Author:R. J. Larson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval martyrdom, Fantasy Historical Religious, Bible Suppression of, Romantic fantasy Historical
Publisher: Gram-Co-Ink
Published: 2020-07-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Nausea and a near-blinding headache swamped Julaiin’s senses as she returned to consciousness. She lay in her bed, propped up by pillows and framed by crimson bedcurtains, while the earl, Evadne, Dame Sely, and Lucina all leaned over her. Where were her new, blue curtains?

Within a breath, Sir Davin appeared, pale, bearing oils, candles, and shakily whispered questions she couldn’t think about clearly enough to answer.

She lifted her hand, struggling to motion everyone, everything away.

Her father touched her face, grasped her hand, then knelt and sobbed.

She closed her eyes against the nightmare.

Against those malicious, unhallowed mist-borne faces that craved her death.

***

Thin rays of reddened sunlight filtered through the red-silk-draped windows, seeping between partially opened crimson bedcurtains, eerily illuminating Evadne and Sir Davin, who drowsed in chairs nearby. Evidently, they’d kept vigil beside her bed. Sleeping in that crimson-hued light, they appeared slain, and her entire chamber glowed red, as if the air itself were blood-tinged. Why was her bed draped with her mother’s old, crimson curtains? And why did her body feel weighed down? Her left foot was braced and bound, as was her right hand. Was she dying? Julaiin exhaled, testing a breath.

Evadne opened her eyes, then leaned forward, smiling. “Mai’dn! At last, you’re awake! I’ll bring some broth! Sir Davin, call me if she even twitches!”

Julaiin lifted her right hand to halt Evadne—the effort sluggish and exhausted as she forced out words. “Why ... all the crimson?”

Evadne didn’t mince words. “We thought you’d die. Dame Sely told the earl that crimson light might heal your wounds.”

Indeed? Well, she was alive, and the ghastly specters had vanished; therefore, she’d not argue. As soon as Evadne sped from the chamber, Julaiin motioned her teacher nearer. When he’d leaned close enough to hear, she whispered, “Mollis and I were attacked ... by creatures within a ... maelstrom. Faces and claws ... darkened mist. Sir, they hated me. What were they?”

Eyes widening, he caught his breath, visibly shocked.

Before he could speak, Evadne returned, bearing a steaming mug. “I’ve had broth simmering at the hearth for hours—Dame Sely prescribed the mixture to heal your wounds. Rest and I’ll feed you, Mai’dn. Just lift a hand when you’ve had enough.”

Behind her, Sir Davin recovered enough to stand. Lifting his crimson-hued gray eyebrows meaningfully, he said, “Mai’dn, I’ll return. When you’ve finished your meal and Evadne’s tended you, we’ll talk.”

***

She woke from a nap, tired as if she’d worked for days without sleep. Sir Davin waited, seated in his crimson chair, beside the bed, a massive book in his lap—the untranslated Rone’en.

Catching Julaiin’s gaze, he nodded, glanced around her glowing bedchamber to determine Evadne’s whereabouts, then opened the huge book and rested it upright in her bed so no one else could see. Julaiin scanned the two pages, deciphering the paintings’ true colors within the ruddy light. In the lower right margin of the right page, a veil-draped young woman recoiled, her paint-illuminated face clearly terrified, menaced by a stylized cloud of smoke that writhed with a multitude of glaring, grimacing supernatural figures.

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