Page 25 of Torin and His Oath (Torin and the Princess #2)

LEXI

H e sat up in the bed, jarring me awake, and pressed his finger to his lips. It was the wee hours of darkness before dawn.

He scrambled to the door. There was the creaking sound of footsteps in the hall — very slowly passing by.

He slowly grabbed his sword and held it up, tensed, listening, waiting. Then the footsteps went down the stairs.

He came to the bed. “Princess, I need tae go check the tavern.” He put on his sporran and sword belt and placed the vessel on the bed beside me.

He pulled on his boots.

“Can ye arise tae bolt the door after I hae gone?”

I nodded, more dazed than comprehending. I got up, swaying from weakness and followed him to the door.

He said, “Daena be afraid.”

I nodded, and he slipped out to the hall.

It took all my strength to replace the bolt over the door.

I got back into bed to wait for his return, clutching the vessel in my hands.

I woke up after dozing, alone, and crawled to the bowl to purge some more.

There was a banging — Torin’s voice, “Mistress Lexi! Mistress Lexi!” Bang bang bang.

I was on the ground, my face pressed to the cold wood floor. Torin?

“Mistress Lexi! Princess!” Bang bang.

There was a hushed frantic conversation happening in the hall.

I weakly said, “Come in.”

His voice again. “Princess! Mistress Lexi, ye must let us in!”

I pushed myself up on shaking arms and blearily stared at the door.

Bang bang bang.

Torin?

“Mistress Lexi, let us in.”

I crawled to the door, held onto the wall while I pulled myself up, rested against the door, and somehow pulled the bar up and got it open.

It felt like it took forever.

Torin rushed in, took one look at me, and called from the door, “Madame Agnes, please, come!”

She rushed in, put down a fresh chamberpot, and set about washing my face with a warm towel. “Och, m’lady, ye hae befouled yerself. We need tae get ye a clean chemise.”

“I think I’m going to die.”

Torin stood to the side. “Och nae, daena say it, Princess. Ye canna.”

Madame Agnes said, “Sire, ye must step from the room. I will help her change.”

Torin left the room and the kindly stranger helped me change my nightgown, and washed the parts of me that were disgusting.

The whole thing would have been very embarrassing, but I was incapable of thinking, just surviving.

I woke up a little later.

I was in bed, morning light streaming through the window. Madame Agnes was sitting on a chair near the window, doing embroidery. I guessed it was bright, but my eyes were dim. I was so freaking weak and sick, I didn’t think I’d ever felt this sick before.

“Torin?”

She looked up from her stitching.

“He’s gone tae church, m’lady, he needed tae pray on yer soul.”

“Oh.”

I turned on my other side and saw Dude, he said, “Meow.”

Then he batted the vessel, dove on it, wrapped his front legs around it, and kicked at it with his hind legs. “Dude… no.”

I pulled the vessel away. He batted my hand.

I petted him and he purred. I said, “Best boy in the world.”

I pulled the vessel close. I wished I understood it — I needed to get home. I likely needed antibiotics. I didn’t know if I would survive this without modern medicine.

But I didn’t understand the vessel at all . This was only like the second time I’d ever held it, third or fourth time I’d really looked at it.

I had no idea what the markings meant. And I was out of my mind, it wasn’t going to make sense now.

I wrapped my hands around it. Feeling something out of place, a bit of a flap, like an upturned edge of paper sticking up. Oh no. Did Dude break it?

It was thinner than paper. I peered at it in the light from the window spilling across my bed.

Dude had done something to it.

There was a band around the middle of the vessel, barely perceptible, almost like a piece of metallic tape pressed into its surface, and a tiny bit of it was not adhered. I tried to press it back down, but it remained up.

I flicked it, it was comforting to just flick that sliver of thin metal back and forth, dozing in and out of consciousness, while Torin was away at church, praying over my life.

And then the sliver was a bit bigger.

I hoped Dude hadn’t broken it. I hoped I hadn’t made it worse.

What if Dude and I had broken the vessel?

I pushed it away. Best to stop messing with it.

I rolled over, slowly slithered off the bed, and crawled over to the bowl. Madame Agnes jumped from her seat and met me there.

I retched, though by now my stomach was empty.

“Och nae, m’lady, ye are wretched with the flux.”

Wretched. Retched.

I crawled back to the bed and climbed in.

I started crying, a dry weak weep.

“Och, m’lady, ye canna despair, yer husband is goin’ tae see tae ye.”

Dry heave, dry sob. I was a dried husk of what I had been.

I put out a shaking hand for the mug and she aimed it toward my lips. I took a sip of a thin bitter ale, and barely got it down before beginning to retch — unable to make it to the bowl, just onto my stomach. Madame Agnes rushed the bowl over, but not in time.

I lay back. She wiped my face, and got a new clean blanket for me.

I went into a daze, flicking the odd piece of something on the vessel once more, descending into a doze.

Torin entered the room.

I heard the murmur of a hushed conversation, then Torin kneeled beside my bed, his forearms on the mattress, a hand smoothing my hair back from my forehead. “How are ye, Princess?”

“Been better.”

He smoothed my hair and then tucked my blankets. “Och nae, I am worried on ye.”

“You went to the church.”

“Aye, I hae been in prayer, mo leannan.”

He picked up my hand and held it in both of his.

“What does... molan-an mean...?”

“It means ‘my sweetheart.’ I think tis alright. I daena ken why, but I feel I must… tis alright?”

“Oh… yes... don’t mind. I like that... what were you praying about?”

“For yer health, and askin’ for guidance in what tae do.”

He drew my hand up and pressed his lips to my fingers. His eyes cast down, he held this simple kiss for a long time. Then he lowered my hand, patted the back of it, and let go.

I ran my fingers down the side of his face, his eyes met mine. “That was really... nice.”

I asked, “When you left... before... where did you go?”

“I daena want tae scare ye, but there are men here askin’ on us.”

“Oh...” I added, “That sucks... I can’t leave.”

“I ken. But nae one in the inn will disclose that we are here, we are safe for a time.”

“By ‘time’ do you mean days or hours?”

He shook his head. “I canna tell. Dost ye feel as if ye are growing stronger?”

“Not really.” My chin trembled. “I’m scared.”

“If ye were home, would yer physicians be able tae cure ye?”

I nodded.

He put his head down on my arm. Bent over my bed. He drew in a long breath and then exhaled and kept his head there, murmuring a prayer.

I ran my fingers through his hair, watching his cheek, the side of his beard, as he begged God for help.

Finally he raised his head. “Dost ye need somethin’ tae drink?”

I nodded.

He held the mug with shaking hands.

I sipped, just a bit, begging my stomach to just take it and not argue. I lay back and shut my eyes, concentrating, but then I had to scramble past Torin to purge into the bowl once more.

He watched me sadly. Then he straightened the bedclothes. From my periphery I saw Dude batting something around on the bed, playfully.

Torin snatched the vessel away. “Nae, cat, ye canna play with it.” He looked down at it. “…the vessel… it feels as if tis alive!” He tossed it onto the bed.

I was on my hands and knees over the bowl. “It is?”

“Aye. Tis. Ye ready tae go home?”

I nodded. “Yes, please. I really need to.”

I had to get back on the bed while Torin paced the room excitedly, arranging our escape.

He wished we could leave at nightfall, but was too worried to wait. Our horses would be brought to the back door. The stable boy, the inn keeper, and Madame Agnes would create a diversion.

“Are the markings right?”

He nodded. “Aye, I hae checked them three times.”

He knelt down. “Can ye sit up, mo leannan?”

I pulled myself upright, and he wrapped the plaid around my shoulders like a shawl, covering the top of my chemise.

I swayed. “My shoes?”

“Ye daena need them, mo leannan. Dost ye need tae retch intae the bowl once more?”

I shook my head.

“Alright, I want ye tae hold the vessel. I am goin’ tae pick ye up.”

He pressed it to my stomach. Then he put an arm under my back and another under my knees and hefted me from the bed.

“What am I... what am I doing with it?”

He held me cradled in his arms. “Ye will twist it when I say, ‘aye twist it,’ but not now.”

“...lot of pressure.”

“I canna do it. I am carryin’ ye. Ye hae tae be brave.”

He stalked from the room and crept quietly down the stairs. At the bottom step he listened and peered into the shadows, then he carried me through the kitchen to the back door. I clutched that vessel as if my life depended on it.

Madame Agnes held the door for us.

The day was too bright after having been inside for so long. I flung an arm over my eyes.

Torin grabbed the reins of Lambo and Ferrari and began running, pulling them along.

I croaked out, “Dude?”

“He’s at our heels, mo leannan. Right behind us.”

Two men rode on horseback from around the inn, chasing us.

Torin yelled, “Hold on!”

He ran, jiggling me up and down, the men chased — I was worried about Dude, about our horses who were unused to having us run beside them.

Torin yelled, “Twist it!”

He had sweat rolling down his face, his stride long, but I was heavily bouncing in his arms. I pulled the vessel up from my lap and then I felt a man grab Torin’s arm, jerking him off stride.

The vessel flew from my weak grip.

Torin stopped and flung us both to the ground, onto the vessel. “Grab it!”

I tried, but I was too slow. He plucked it up, and thrust it into my hands. “Go!”

He was punching and fighting a big ornery man on top of my legs. Instead of being helpful, I moaned.

I needed to twist the vessel, but I couldn’t get my body to work.

He let go of the man he was fighting, and swung his hand out, grabbing our horse’s reins. He wrapped them around his left hand. I got walloped pretty good as the creep swung — Torin body-slammed him down. The man slumped across my feet.

Torin dropped to his ass and shoved the man off me with his feet. He grabbed Dude and dumped him onto my stomach, plucked up the vessel, and twisted it while straddling my thigh.

Och nae, lass, daena let go.

I don’t know if he said it or if I just heard it.

The last thing I saw was Dude, standing on my chest, and Torin looking down on me, his jaw set, his expression grim. “Hold on, mo leannan, hold on,” and then the world went dark.