Chương 15: Chapter Fourteen: The Other Side Of Happiness

Sunyare, Year 238 of Queen Illyria's Reign. Long fingers pulled me out of my uncomfortable position and crushed me into a beating limb separated only by skin. Nuzzling into my neck is a cold, sweaty nose, and I gasp for clean air. Finding none, I turn into the choking embrace and angle my head away to examine the strange happening. Black hair darker than a raven's claw brushed my cheek. Pulling away to inspect me from above, soft red eyes probed me deeply for any flaws in the wares.

Stony features more pretty than handsome, hollowed out and deep indentations of eye bags made him look gloomier than usual. Father? What are you looking at? His bright red eyes locked onto mine again, fresh from their impolite once-over, and I grimaced at the sudden attention. I don't think I've been this close to him in a year. Pushing with my chubby hands against the stronger ones holding me by the amrpits, I looked up to him with a tight smile.

"Ow? He crushed me into his squishy chest again, and all I could hear was his undead heart starting up the engines again. Slender hands caressed my hair delicately, and I struggled to turn my squished nose away from him. Woah. Niathe looked like she had been through hell. Her hair was thrown up in a casual bun, whiskers flying everywhere, and she was wearing a plain black house dress similar to a widow's attire. A similar downcast plagued her and only brightened when I avoided her touch.

Flailing and pushing with my feet away from the unwelcome display of affection from him. Matted curls stuck to my forehead and chin were lightly pushed away in my ministrations and I noticed for the first time. She's touching me like a person. It sounds strange in my head, but it's the only way to describe how she's touching me. Smooth hands lingering on places she'd never bothered before, complex emotions in her gaze, a longing–something different. Chuckling deprecatingly at the vile train of thought I'd humored.

I spent one last burst of energy kicking him and punching his surprisingly sturdy chest. I don't think I've ever seen her wear anything that casual before. It's always been ballgowns. Everyday. The door of the round room, getting too warm for my tastes, burst open and the quiet shattered into pieces. Strange men and women wearing long gowns streamed into the room. Green motifs and similar attire marked them as the Healers. Which kind I could not say, but I knew by now what they represented. Thank God.

He was suffocating me! The Duke held me with my back facing his chest so they could examine me without him having to let go. Fretting hands poked and prodded at me with instruments. Measuring temperature, holding little bottles of rocks, and writing down furiously on a slate board. Each one seemed incredibly eager to examine me under a microscope, and I backed away a little from their overwhelming care. Everyone seemed to have joined the eyebag club in the short time I'd been trapped in that nightmare.

These two are somewhat understandable. I glanced Niathe's way to see her laser-eyed focused on everything they were doing. Whether they trembled or avoided her unceremoniously out of discomfort, she didn't seem to care. One band. Eligia stretched my hands out to meet the little wooden board ahead of me, and I subconsciously spread my hands out to touch it. One sound. Everyone worked seamlessly for results. They must really love their job. I guess that's doctors everywhere.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. With a breath of relief, the Head Doctor looked at Elgiia with unwavering attention, every word considered twice and then deliberated over once more before she declared my current state according to her findings, "Her fever has subsided and her vital signs are perfect. The princess has survived the worst of the illness. From now on..."

A familiar headache rose from the depths of my conscience and I played deaf while she recited a long laundry list of precautions to take from now on. No cold water? No excitement? No crawling?

"The state of her knees is a cause for concern. Do you happen to know how much she spends per day on crawling?" The Duke looked to Niathe for answers, but she was in the dark too. Fluttering eyelashes looked down, and I tilted my head up.

"..." Is she waiting for me to say something? No way. This lady's just going to cut down on that, too. I need my freedom. Especially now, the headache grew worse as I thought of the ever-present looming blade over my neck. Maybe it had all been a dream. Probably. Hopefully. Receiving no answer, the Doctor glossed over it and moved on to the portion of the speech I'd been waiting for. Just say you want me to rot in bed for a month.

"Why?" My voice came out in a broken whistling whisper and grated on my ears. Does anyone have water? Licking my lips, I looked around for the table dedicated to holding refreshments, and Niathe was already in front of me with a warm bottle of milk ready. That's more like it. I don't care what kind it is. I'm dying here. I made grabby hands at it to hurry her along, and her shoulders dropped in relief.

Offering it to me, nub first, I snatched the bottle completely out of her hands and sucked furiously on the rubbery opening while the doctor stared at me, gobsmacked. I tilted my head, still focused on my task but already wary of the one in charge here. What? Unable to hide her curiosity, she opened her question for all to answer in a light tone, "When did she first begin speaking?" Niathe knew the answer to that and jumped to the sudden unrelated interest, "Five months old. Why do you ask?"

The Doctor bent a little at the knees to make it easier to meet my gaze, and my fervent gulping slowed.

"Do you understand what I told His Grace?" Knitting my eyebrows, I replied honestly, "No." To be more specific, I don't understand the context behind all of the oppressive rules you're imposing on me. Her eyebrows shot up.

"What day is it?"

"I'm not sure. How long have I been asleep?" My steady articulation caused her to continue staring at my face the way one would a beehive or a salt column. It was like she didn't know what to do with me. The Duke rubbed soothing circles on my back, and I tried to untense.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" Seeing no reason to hide it, she continued speaking directly to me, "Your speech ability is a rarity among those of your age group. Her Highness is very gifted." Yay? Why do you have to be so weird about it, though? The Duke puffed out his chest behind me, and I rolled my eyes. Here we go. Cutting him off before he could humble-brag about me, I hurried the conversation along, "That's all I presume?" Her bright eyes stayed glued to me, and I wiggled my toes in discomfort, "...

Yes. I will write down the prescriptions in detail and have them delivered to you within the hour. Feel better, Your Highness." The doctor gave a small bow above the waist to the trio and left the room along with the other doctors. Practically fleeing as they all looked like they'd finally seen the sunlight. Relying on the convenient open skylight, I looked up to check the time. It's past midnight now. I must have been out for a while.

"Do not you ever scare me like that again. I forbid it." She presses a long kiss to my forehead, and my pupils shake. Unsure and awkward, I just nodded so it would be over. The Duke refused to let me go but eventually did sit down on a rocking chair, sharing the squishy replica he'd made of his wife. Niathe sat on the edge of his knee and pinned me with her glare. Heavy as she was, Eligia made no mention of it and actually seemed pretty happy with this arrangement.

Humming in a good mood and occasionally dragging a curled finger down his wife's arm while she held a staring contest with her daughter. My eyes got dry for her, and I wrinkled my nose.

"Creepy." Giving her the back of my head in an attempt to give her a subtle hint to stop acting like a creep at the grocery store. Act like you've talked to someone other than yourself, please.

"…" The Duke snorted and tried to cover it with a cough. Niathe turned her heated gaze away from me and haughtily gave me an order through gritted teeth, "Drink your bottle." I rolled my eyes and gave a few perfunctory sucks at the stupid thing. Tastes sugary. Afraid that the moment of peace had lasted too long, Niathe addressed the elephant in the room.

"So…are we going to talk about him?" The Duke tensed and dragged his palm too heavily on my head, causing me to teeter. Not again. I'm really going to get a cowlick if they keep doing that to me.