65: By her bedside

By her bedside

The lines between the tangible and intangible blurred, leaving her caught in a liminal space that did not belong to the waking world. The remnants of emotions from her dreams lingered, their presence intertwining with her consciousness. Confusion swept over her leaving her momentarily adrift.1

"Kannen…" Adela's voice emerged, laden with sentiment.

She clung to the darkness with closed eyes, but a flicker of movement twitched her eyelids, it was followed by a gentle touch that wiped away the tears cascading down her cheeks.

"Father?"

As silence greeted her query, she gradually opened her eyes, but the transition from the realm of dreams to reality remained a disorienting haze. She couldn't distinguish between what was real and what was a figment of her imagination. Unsure of which reality she truly inhabited, she decided to give her senses time to adjust.

She let her eyes wander. 

Her surroundings resembled her chamber, her attention was drawn to Claude's coat, cast aside and caked with mud. Her hands gingerly touched her own attire, sensing the softness and cleanliness of her thick shawl enveloping her nightgown.

She frowned at that, her frown deepening when her eyes settled on Egon's face that was close enough for her to touch, he looked rather different than the Egon in her dreams, concern touching his eyes that searched her face. She took a deep breath, grounding herself in the present, and gradually transitioning into a seated position.

"Take it slowly," a very real Egon spoke, his arms encircling her waist and shoulders and supporting her weight up.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had previously noted that Egon exuded an aroma akin to the needles of the flourishing pine trees that enveloped Lanark, it was very masculine and natural at the same time.

"Have an apple," he offered awkwardly with his deep voice, diverting her attention to the basket of ripe green apples placed beside her bed.

Her hand reached out and seized one, she closed her eyes enjoying the juicy fruit, one bite after another. She opened her eyes and eyed Egon with a hint of curiosity. 

Tempting as it was, her encounter with the shapeshifter was too detailed to be dismissed as a part of the dream she had. How did Egon fit into that part of the puzzle?

"…How did you get here?" She started as he settled back onto the chair positioned next to her bed.

She did not miss how his awkwardness grew further as it was evident on his face. 

"More importantly, how is your head?" He asked, changing the subject.

Her head pounded as if it had been trampled by a carriage, but she had no intention of disclosing that to him. Pausing to take another breath, she recalled the last thing the white wolf had said to her before the dreams took hold. He had explicitly stated that he would bring her back home.

What is Egon doing here then?

Her body jolted as she remembered the reason why she absolutely couldn't afford to be late: Arkin.

Setting the half-eaten apple on the bedside table, she inquired, "What time is it?"

"It's almost dawn," he replied.

She let out a sigh of relief. Requesting the knight to return by dawn had been ambitious. His father's fief was far, and even if he didn't assist his mother and Larissa with unloading, he would still take more time to return.

Adela's focus settled on Egon's eyes—brown, nothing like the ruby and black orbs he had displayed during their heated argument by the carriage the previous evening.

"Why are you here?" Her voice had sharpened as she repeated the same question for the second time.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and the heat in his dark brown eyes dissipated.

"Andreas informed me that you were left alone here. I came to see if you needed anything," he explained.

How foolish of her. She couldn't believe she had entertained the notion that he might be behind the white wolf's appearance instead of Claude. Her next course of action was clear: she would depart with Arkin to Destan on horseback as soon as he returned.

"I do not require anything," she stated, her tone laced with a hint of bitterness.

Not from you...

She suppressed her emotions, along with everything she felt for this man. "You may leave now," she added.

"No, it's still very early. I'll stay a while longer. The guards outside will be asleep for a few more hours..."

"The guards... Did you do something to them?"

His expression remained inscrutable. "You need far better protection than that. You should follow your sister to the Baron's fief."

Her face fell. "I can protect myself."

Egon's jaw clenched as his narrowed eyes bore into her. But Adela's thoughts were somewhere else now, the mention of protection triggered an important realization.

She grasped his gloved hand firmly, feeling the pressure against her bedside, "The Crown Prince," she began, "He seems to have an idea about your... uniqueness."

He scoffed, "Better than your father's false assumptions, yes... I suppose his information comes from Kolhis."

A sudden, acute fear for Egon's life gripped her. His presence in Lanark only added further complications for everyone involved, and now with the Emorian Crown Prince's attention provoked, staying here seemed counterintuitive.

Her own body rebelled against the flow of her thoughts as if the pain she felt was a premonition of a destiny that had been fixed in stone, not too far away from their present.

She shuffled her weight to the side and peered deep into his eyes, "Perhaps you should..." she trailed off, unable to ask him to leave the Archduchy.

When Egon held her gaze this time, the atmosphere between them shifted.

"Perhaps I should?" His voice carried an undercurrent that went directly to her lower abdominal parts.

She sucked in a sharp breath when the door to her room was violently kicked open.

A panting, enraged Arkin burst in, his body trembling with fury. It took him one second to unsheathe his sword, and in the next second, he lunged forward to attack.

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