45 Do Not Speak To Her That Way (2/2)

”Lehan?” she asked the name clear on her lips.

He shook his head. ”No, I settled that matter with him directly. It should not trouble you again. There is some doubt of you. I am not clear on what but we must appear before them to assure them of you.”

She nodded, coughing into her palm.

He held up a handkerchief to her mouth, which she took in shaky fingers. ”If this were something I could stop, I would but we can't ignore the summons from the Council. It will be quick. Dressing will tire you but you can rest some in the carriage before you see them.”

She nodded and he bent, leaning towards her. She let him brush his lips across her cheek.

Sighing he stepped away as her maids entered.

The women bowed to Arren, even Haribit, her eyes shooting daggers. He paid them no mind as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

They stared wide eyed at Isilla. They hadn't seen how much her conditioned had worsened over the last few days as Haribit and Arren had taken on the roles of her primary caregivers. She coughed again as the women, whispering, set to work.

Under Haribit's guidance, the woman undressed her and washed the sweat from her body. They dried her gently before placing fresh clothing on her. The heavy dress, made to keep out the cold weather, weighed her weak form down.

They sat her on her dressing stool, Hanna moving to cover her face in powder before Haribit swatted her hands away and turned their attention to her hair as two more young women entered the room, a heavy dress in their hands.

”Just brush her hair out, gently!” Haribit ordered as she pulled her own dress off and the two younger women helped her into the one they had brought. Isilla had never seen her friend in clothing from the Dark Realm, the taupe colored dress seemed very plain on her. Isilla stared down at her russet colored gown and wondered if she looked any better with her fever flushed face.

Dressed, Haribit took over Isilla's hair, brushing the women away. Gently she pulled the tresses into a bun.

”Is that what you meant about him?” she asked while the other women could not hear them.

Isilla nodded.

”It is as if he is a completely different person,” the wonder clear in Haribit's voice. ”I understand why you were so confused now. When he told me to dress you, it sounded as if you were nothing at all to him.”

She finished her hair and stepped back. ”Change her bedding while we're away. Leave a girl in here to have her medicine and food prepared as soon as we return.”

”Looks like we'll get a new lady soon, poor thing,” Greta said as she turned to the bed.

”What did you say?” Haribit asked spinning away from Isilla.

”Sorry, ma'am. It's just, the Princess is so sick,” Greta said, stumbling over her words.

”How can you speak so casually?” Haribit sneered.

Isilla turned, grabbing her wrist, drawing her attention back to her.

It's fine, she signed before another round of coughs overtook her.

”It is not fine,” Haribit replied handing her a handkerchief as Arren had done.

We go, she signed, keeping her words simple so Haribit could follow.

Gritting her teeth, Haribit helped her stand and holding her arm with one hand and carrying their cloaks with the other, led her from the room. Ilun perked up from the ray of light he sat in, pulling his body into a sitting position, his head tilted to the side. She stepped forward and he crossed the room to her side, lowering his body for her to ride.

”I can't,” she said rubbing his head.

He whimpered and stood, keeping his body low so that she could lean on him as they crossed the room and made their way out into her halls. At the great glass doors a page waited to lead them to the carriage.

They walked slowly, so that Isilla would not be overexerted but even so, they stopped every few steps for her to catch her breath or cough into the handkerchief. They stopped before the last door, Haribit helping Isilla into her cloak, more weight on her weak body. Sweat covered her but she shivered even before they left the building into the cold air of the early winter.

The carriage waited, Arren standing next to it, his focus on the sky above until the horses began to whine and pull against their leads.

”Your pet,” he said softly, his voice carried by the wind to her.

”You have to stay here, Ilun,” Isilla said.

He whined and she shook her head, ”Stay.”

Ilun sat, his head lowered, his body shifting quickly, showing his agitation.

Haribit helped her the rest of the way to the carriage where Arren helped her into her seat. She slid across it to the window. Haribit climbed in next and sat across form her, smiling gently.

Finally Arren entered. The door shut and the horses pulled away.

”Come here,” Arren said gently to Isilla.

She looked at him and shook her head.

He sighed and turned to Haribit. ”I am very sorry for how I spoke with you earlier. I should have been more patient. Forgive me and please continue to speak up on your Lady's behalf, even against me.”

”If you treat her like that she'll think you don't care!” Harbit exploded, clearly having held back her anger. ”And is this Council meeting worth her life? You could lose your wife dragging her from bed in this condition!”

”I will lose her if I do not bring her to this meeting. This matter is one that will end my marriage to her. I do not know what is at question but I know that whatever it is, the Council has found something troubling enough to demand our presence. While we are there, I cannot show my affection for Isilla. You will help her stand when she needs to do so. Now come here, Isilla, you can rest against me.”

She nodded and slid across the seat into his arms. He wrapped them around her, placing his hand over hers, sliding his fingers between her fingers. ”Do not worry, my dearest. Whatever this is, no one will take you from me,” he said to her, kissing the top of her head.

She closed her eyes, the small trip exhausting her, her body heavy, and slipped away.