Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I remind myself that it is a process. That Melina believes we are helping them, and I must believe her. She is the only one I trust. Thinking about my mate makes me speed up, and I breathe a deep sigh of relief at the sight of her clinic. The windows are open, the front doors pulled back, and there are people standing at the front, as if waiting to go inside. They reek of sickness and vomit, and my nose twitches in distaste. Melina's scent comes from one of the windows, and so I approach it.
Melina stands near the window, crying.
My heart feels as if it shatters in that moment. I freeze in place, watching as my mate waters the plant in the window and shakes her head. "I can't get it to live," she weeps to another person. Probably her assistant, Alma. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but it's dying." She touches a yellowed leaf and a dozen fall like rain, fluttering to the windowsill. Her face crumples and she sobs again. "Everything's dying around me. Everything. And I can't do anything about it."
She swipes at her eyes and gives a little grimace. Melina takes a deep breath, manages a smile, and then moves away from the window.
I'm gutted at the sight of her tears. It destroys me to know that she's so unhappy. I know some of it is stress. She hates that people are sick and dying at her clinic. She hates that she works so hard and many times, it is for nothing because she does not have the proper medicines or treatments for those that are ill. She has confessed all of this to me a dozen times, but I thought it was just complaining about a bad day. The sight of her weeping over the plant I gifted her tells me that it goes deeper.
Am I making my mate miserable? Is being my mate bringing her more grief than happiness? Melina cares so much for everyone…and I find that her caring is rubbing off on me. I should not care that Melina weeps over a plant, or that scarred, unpleasant Rachel and her equally unpleasant drakoni mate hate me. I should not care that the people would rather have filthy streets than help out the fort. I should not care about any of it.
I should let them all suffer under the weight of their own weaknesses. I should leave here with my captive dragons and start over somewhere new, somewhere where I will be appreciated fully…and yet I cannot. Because Melina is here, and because she cares.
I stare at that dying plant thoughtfully.
I cannot fix everything, but I can fix that.
Turning, I shove the basket of food into the nearest guard's hands. "I want you to give this to no one but my consort, Melina. Do you understand me?" When he nods, I storm away, heading back to the barracks and back to where Daniels is working. That male knows how to take care of a plant, and his first priority is going to be that it grows healthy and strong so my mate smiles again.
Or I will gut him.
Chapter
Nineteen
MELINA
I'm a little puzzled at the basket of food that shows up with the guard, who says it's from Azar. When my husband doesn't stop into the clinic, I figure he must be busy, and I don't think much more of it. I eat one small pancake and then give the rest to those that are able to keep some food down. There're a few empty beds at the clinic today, and I'm trying not to think about the fact that they're empty because someone probably died overnight instead of recovering. We can only do so much with our limited supplies.
I work until it's late, switching out bedding and comforting the sick. One of the guards has brought a thin bone broth from the kitchens as I asked, and cups of it are passed out to the sick. It seems to perk people up, and I see some eyeing the soldiers with a little less distaste. I know that they're not always viewed positively—lord knows they're certainly not my favorite sometimes—but if soldiers passing out broth convinces them to stop eating those strange, horrific bugs, I'm all for it. I'm exhausted by the time I return to the barracks, readying my excuses as to why I stayed so late and am still so hungry. When I arrive, though, Azar isn't in the dining room. He's not in his study, either. Worried, I head to our bedroom only to see that the servants are in there, removing Azar's clothing.
"What's going on?" I ask, worried. "What's happened?"
They look at me, uneasy, but continue their work. "Lord Azar is in his new study," one of the staff comments. "He said he wished to speak to you when you returned."