Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
“I understand,” I murmured when she trailed off and did not carry on.
She then carried on.
“As the swelling has gone down, I’ve even noticed him flex the muscles in his thighs.”
“By the gods,” I breathed.
She shook her head swiftly. “Do not hold hope. Please, Your Grace. It would be foolhardy. His injury was severe. But it was low on his back. I do not think he will ever walk again. But I’ve known men who have had such injuries who regain some mobility in their legs. Control of certain functions. Important ones, my queen, for life and dignity. And he…he…there is some small hope, for he has those.”
“Then you must carry on,” I urged.
“The patient must help,” she told me.
I twitched my shoulders. “Leave that to me. True and me.”
More likely True, Wallace, Luther, Bram and Florian and maybe me.
But we’d see to that.
Absolutely.
“It is not to his benefit if I cause him distress,” she advised.
“The kind of distress you will cause him, Bronagh, might be the only thing that keeps him alive.”
She let go a gust of shocked breath.
“Please,” I whispered. “It might take much from you, and I do not know how it will end, but please. For my husband. For Alfie. Please, do not give up on him.”
It took her a moment to reply.
But I felt my shoulders slump in relief when she said, “I will do that for you, my queen, and my king and…and…” her eyes brightened, “for Sir Alfie.”
I nodded to her and smiled. “Thank you.”
“It is my calling.”
I hoped it would be much more than that.
“Regardless, thank you.”
Her gaze drifted to the door and she mumbled, “I hear he doesn’t shout at his king.”
“He shouts at nobody but fair-haired maids with beguiling freckles.”
She could not hide the hope as her eyes turned to me.
And I could not stop my smile.
The door opened and we both jumped from it like we were doing something we felt guilty about.
True closed the door behind him and trained an evaluating gaze to Bronagh then to me before he said to Bronagh, “I think he needs a rest from…whatever it was you were doing.”
She bobbed a curtsy and replied, “Of course, Your Grace.”
“We don’t curtsy in this castle any longer, Bronagh,” True, apparently having asked after her name (so very True), reminded her.
“Right.” She bobbed again and muttered on another blush, “Gads.”
True shot her an understanding grin before he turned to me.
“I’m sorry, love,” he murmured, taking my elbow. “Alfie isn’t up for more company.”
“Of course,” I murmured in return.
We started moving away.
When we were some distance from Alfie’s room, True shared, “He wants me to sack Bronagh.”
“Of course he does. He’s determined to let this beat him, and I don’t blame him. I could not imagine. What I could imagine is that I’d likely be the same. However, she’s the only one of all of us who has the skills to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“He barely knows her, Farah, and what he knows he shares he does not like.”
“Hmm,” I hummed.
“I’m sure you can understand that was humiliating for him, sweetling,” he muttered.
“I’m sure the quick glance I saw was impressive, il mia vita,” I returned. “And Bronagh undoubtedly felt the same way.”
A short, sharp bark of laughter erupted from my husband.
“He is a man without the use of his legs, but he’s still very clearly very much a man, and Bronagh did not miss this,” I went on.
True let my elbow go only to slide an arm around my waist.
Though he did his speaking.
“You’re being entirely inappropriate, my queen.”
“Bronagh agreed, though I talked her out of that.”
True stopped us both from walking and looked down at me.
“Pardon?”
“Let’s see how this plays out, shall we?” I suggested.
“Farah—”
I curled into him, lifting my hand that was free of the sling to touch the tips of my fingers to his lips.
“He must be shown every reason to carry on with life. Even if it’s bickering with a pretty nurse.”
True wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pulled it down to hold my hand to the base of his throat.
“I worry this is a faulty play,” he said gently.
“I fear in this instance, caro, we all, but mostly Alfie, have nothing left to lose.”
Although he did not like the reasons behind it, my husband saw the wisdom of this, I knew it when he bent to kiss my forehead.
I would wish for the feel of his lips to mine.
But for now, I would take that.
He then turned me to his side, our arms still around each other.
And as such, we walked to his study.
“You must understand, our hands were tied,” the Go’Doan priest said sharply.
“I understand no such thing,” Ophelia returned.
“I am sorry what befell your lieutenant,” the priest replied, fashioning his features into a semblance of the emotion he was purporting, something which was not lost on anyone at that table, specifically my husband, who I could feel anger emanating from.