48 Red Gold (1/2)

Isilla breathed deeply, a comfortable warmth flowing through her body. Slowly she began to let herself feel past it. Her skin felt damp and cool, even under the heavy blankets. She tried to move her hand, to touch her lips where he had kissed her but she couldn't.

She turned her head. Arren leaned on her bed from a chair, asleep, her hand held tightly in his. On the floor, beyond him, Ilun sat, his body curled upon itself, watching them in the darkness. She moved slowly, sitting up, her body still weak and slow to listen but not pained, her breathing much easier with only a light cough.

She reached over and brushed his hair away from his face, and he woke, his voice still full of sleep. ”Isilla, you're awake!”

She nodded and he reached forward, touching her forehead and neck. A smile spreading to his lips, ”Your fever broke.”

She touched her forehead, cool skin meeting her as he shifted, moving onto the bed and pulling her into his arms. She had no strength to push him away and submitted to his hold, his scent filling her nostrils, the warmth of his hands and arms bleeding through the nightgown to her skin.

”My dearest, I thought I would lose you! The doctor said that you would be unlikely to wake again, the fever burned too hot,” he explained his shadows touched her her body, feeling along her skin.

His shadows reached for the lamps, casting low light into the room. He pulled away from her, looking into her eyes, brows creased. ”This happened because I forced you to leave your bed. Please forgive me.”

He had dark circles under his eyes, stubble over his chin. He looked as if he hadn't slept well in days. She looked away from him, still angry with his actions.

”Isilla what is the matter?” he asked his fingers under her chin, pulling her eyes back to him. ”Wait,” he said releasing her to reach behind her, for her book.

You went to her rooms. You didn't come see me, she wrote.

He brushed back her hair, ”Isilla, that wasn't because I don't care for you. I wanted to ensure she was gone and you were safe.”

She came here to taunt me, she wrote.

Arren frowned, a shadow sweeping over his features, ”I had to leave, briefly. There were some other matters that I needed to handle.”

She tilted her head to the side, questioning him in her way and he responded by shaking his head, ”It is fine, my little bird, it is nothing for you to be concerned with.”

You've put a target on me, she wrote, Elixabete says if something happens to me or if I cannot give you children then she will become your wife.

”You will be very safe from her. She cannot attack you and if someone does move against you, she will be the first to be investigated. As for children, we will discuss that more when you are recovered,” he said gently.

She shook her head. ”Why?” she asked, letting him read the word on her lips.

”Because I didn't want them to know of our love. I didn't want them to be able to use you as a weapon to harm me. There's a chance that if they dug enough they would find that I wrote you the letters and covered it up. You have not seen much of the politics of our Realm. If they knew that I cared for you so deeply they would do everything in their power to use you against me. That would be a target on you. So I must hide it as best I can. That is why I treat you so coldly outside of these rooms.”

She pointed to his shadows, the twisting darkness that betrayed his every feeling to her. He smiled.

”It is only when I am around you that I let them roam so freely. Any other time I keep them under my control,” he explained.

She thought of the their visit to his father's throne, the creeping darkness that covered everything. You meant to threaten Haribit with them, she wrote.

His eyes widened and he shook his head. ”No! Of course not! I was upset with the Council for forcing you from your bed and in that moment was not thinking.”

This is all very selfish of you, she wrote.

He stilled, dropping his hand form her, ”You're right.”

Tears fell from her eyes, hitting the page and she felt weak for crying but they came regardless.

”I have made you cry so much, my love,” he said softly moving her body back into the bed with him, wrapping his arms around her form, holding her close. ”Of course you are upset that I have taken Elixabete as my consort. But I promise you, Isilla, she will never warm my bed.”

He pulled her closer, ”I have only thought to handle things quickly and not of the ways they may impact your feelings. I have already told you that I am not good at this, my love. Please, forgive me my mistakes.”

His sincere words melted her anger and she pushed herself tighter against him.

”Is that why you did not see me in all the days you have been asleep? Because I hurt you? I do not remember my dreams well but I know when I have not felt your presence. Just before we woke I felt it again for the first time since your fever had gone so high. So, were you avoiding me because you were angry?”

She nodded, the admission feeling childish and silly.

”You cannot help your feelings anymore than I can help my own. It is my fault. I should have come to you right away, my dearest. But you need to see me, correct? Do not endanger yourself like this! Please do not cry over my stupidity any longer. I will not let something as minor as that woman's meddling come between us.”

I have to tell him about the darktellers, she thought realizing that he wouldn't know, she had found them after she became ill and and was all too much to explain.

She coughed, and he sighed. ”You are still not well enough. You will need many days to rest and we must attend the ball for our wedding.”

She turned his palm over. Still, she wrote with her finger.

”Yes, my love. There will be delegates from your home, we cannot change the event. It is in four days time. You will need to stay in bed until then,” he said firmly.

She frowned and he shifted around her, moving to allow her to relax more against him. ”What's this?” he asked pulling something from her sheets.

In the low light of the lamp, the bracelet shimmered, the thin twisting hoop catching the light as Isilla's curls caught it, gold and rich red all along the length of it. He turned the piece in his fingers, the ring of metal thin and delicate.

Isilla pulled away from Arren's arms, sitting up in the bed. She found her book. I made it, in the dream with you, she wrote.

Arren sat up, still inspecting the ring of gold, a thoughtful expression on his face as he traced along it with his fingers. ”Why did you make this? It looks as if someone has woven your hair into metal.” he said fascinated.

She shook her head, a small shrug, embarrassed at his attention to the piece. She reached for it, prepared to take it back.