Isolated Hearts by Avril Borthiry

Author:Avril Borthiry
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2017-03-27T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 12

GISELLE AWOKE TO the sensation of something crawling in her hair. Groggy, she took a moment to orient herself, realizing she must have fallen asleep, her head lolling onto the small bunk as she kept vigil over the injured man.

Her hair moved again and Giselle let out a squeak and sat up, slapping at her scalp to dislodge whatever multi-legged creature wandered there.

A moment later, her hand froze in its attack and her breath seized in her lungs.

“Oh!” The exclamation fell from her as she exhaled and dropped her hand. She blinked and continued to stare into two of the bluest eyes she had ever seen.

“God be praised, you’re awake!” She frowned and leaned closer. “Can you speak?”

The man blinked at her but said nothing. Giselle felt a touch and looked down to where his fingers caressed hers. As they had caressed her hair, she realized. “It’s all right,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You’ve been injured. You fell and banged your head. But you’re safe now.”

He swallowed visibly and with obvious difficulty, cracked lips moving as if trying to form words.

“Wait. Let me get you a drink.” Shaken by the man’s return to consciousness, Giselle rose to fetch a cup of water, wincing at her stiffness. She knelt beside the bed and slid an arm beneath his shoulders, raising his head a little so he could drink. He did so, acknowledging his thanks with a slow blink of his eyes.

Before she set the cup down, Giselle glanced at the back of man’s head, a chill scraping along her spine at the sight of the stained bandage. A yellow brownish fluid had formed a large blot on the fabric and even seeped into the pillow. At least it wasn’t blood, she thought. Perhaps the wound was merely cleansing itself. And there was still no sign of fever.

Releasing a raspy breath, the man settled back and placed a trembling hand atop his heart. “Ninian,” he whispered, and then pointed at Giselle.

“Ninian?” She touched his chest. “Is that your name?”

He answered with a blink and pointed at her again.

“Giselle,” she said, patting her chest. “My name is Giselle.”

He tried to repeat and failed. Head lolling slightly to the side, he groaned and closed his eyes.

Had he expired? Panicked, Giselle took his hand and pressed it between hers. “Don’t die, Ninian. Please don’t die.”

His fingers twitched in response.

For a while Giselle watched the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest as he slept. Sharing their names, she mused, had at least created a connection between them. She prayed he would live.

From outside came the sound of hooves. It seemed Luc had returned.

Giselle rose to her feet, wincing again at the stiffness in her legs. The door opened and Luc entered, eyeing her for a moment before casting a glance toward the bed.

“How is he?”

Tears came to her eyes. “His name is Ninian.”

“What?” Luc looked startled. “He spoke?”

“Yes. He awoke, had a sip of water, and told me his name.”

Luc blew out a breath and scratched his head.

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