The Breton Boys

Chapter Seventeen: Yule | 2

The rest of the day dragged on at an agonizing pace. When supper finally arrived, Captain Pitchblende and Sir Innskeep joined Miss Corey and the Bretons, though neither Reid nor Adaline ate much. That night, Reid slept fitfully and dreamed a familiar dream of Gretchen dragging Oliver away. Only this time, instead of vanishing into the darkness, Reid was forced to watch as Gretchen slit Oliver's throat with a cherry-red fingernail. He woke with a start, cold and sweating, and did not sleep again that night.

Reid was allowed visitors at the end of training the following day, although the only person he had any real interest in seeing was Duncan. He stayed with Reid long after the others had left, and they watched as Adaline was finally able to bring herself to write letters to the family explaining what had happened to Oliver. But she had only written a few before the task became too much. Duncan took up Adaline's quill and copied her message again and again, so that all she had to do in the end was sign the stack of letters.

Duncan left and Reid tried to eat supper, tried to fall asleep. It was impossible. He thought how different things would be if he had been taken instead - he was the one Tsorsha wanted, after all - and he knew that, in his place, Oliver would refuse to give up hope that Reid was alright. But Reid was not Oliver, and he knew full well that his brother was never coming back. Adaline knew it, too, and it was for that reason that she held her son close to her late into the night, spilling salty tears into his brown curls while he cried into her chest, mourning their loss.

The door to the minding cottage flung open with a bang, and Reid jumped, clinging tightly to his mother, jerking his bad arm and causing fresh waves of pain to course through him.

"There's been a letter," Captain Pitchblende said, the glow of his lantern casting his battle-worn face into sharp relief. He held up the parchment with his other hand.

Adaline leapt from the bed and snatched the paper from him, scanning it quickly before her knees gave out beneath her. Pitchblende caught her and Reid stared to the man with wide, terrified eyes, desperate for answers.

"He's alright," Pitchblende said, still supporting Adaline in his arms. "The border guard in Hobblebush got him. He'll be home on the morrow."

***

The following day, time seemed to be moving at the same unbearably slow speed of the previous nights, though the mood inside the cozy minding cottage had become unimaginably more cheerful. Adaline set to work straight away revising the unsent letters to the family, and Reid helped her seal them with colorful wax, although it was clumsy work using his left hand. Once that had been finished, Adaline insisted that Miss Corey needed more Yule decorations, so with Reid's help, she set to work hanging brushes of holly, ivy, and pine all about the cottage.

Ivy and Duncan stopped by after training that evening to wish them a renewing Yule. At supper, Reid was able to eat a full plate for the first time in days, though as the evening wore on, he became more and more impatient for Oliver's return.

Finally, long after Adelaide had been put to bed, there was a knock on the door. Reid's stomach flipped excitedly and he smiled as Miss Corey stood to answer the door. Before she could, Captain Pitchblende let himself in and held the door wide for the man behind him.

Reid's face fell, his smile vanished. He was not sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't Averis Aragonite carrying his brother in his arms like a small child. Nor was he prepared to see Oliver in such a weakened state. When Averis laid him gently on the bed, Reid could not imagine what he must have gone through for his face and arms to be so badly bruised, for him to be so silent, looking so lifeless and scared. Miss Corey peeled off his shirt and the bandages that had been hastily wrapped around his ribs, and suddenly Reid's injured arm seemed no more serious than a scraped knee.

Oliver's entire chest was a horrible purplish blue, and there were four long, angry red gashes oozing blood and pus and poultice along his left side. When Miss Corey asked what had happened, Averis just said, "There was a struggle." Oliver blinked and reached his arms out towards his mother.

"Is there anything you need me to do, Coriandra?" Pitchblende asked.

"No, sir." She was already at work at her mortar and pestle, grinding herbs, pulling clean bandages from drawers, putting a kettle over the fire.

Pitchblende bade the Bretons a good night, and Averis inclined his head to Reid as he followed the Captain out.

Reid stood well out of the way while Miss Corey worked, though their mother did not leave Oliver's side, clutching her son's hand and showering him with gentle kisses. She fed him hot broth and helped him drink down the tea Miss Corey had prepared. When he fell asleep, Adaline helped wash the dirt from his face and hands while Miss Corey tended to his wounds. By the time the women had finished, Oliver looked almost himself again, save for the bruises.

After another full day under Miss Corey's care, Oliver began to perk. Though he was still much quieter than usual and clung to their mother in a way Reid had never seen him do before, he was eager to hear about Reid's encounter with the dryad and commended his bravery in running into the woods after him after he'd been snatched. However, Oliver refused to talk about what had happened to him after he'd been taken, and no one forced the issue.

Sir Innskeepvisited that evening and joked with the Breton boys, though it was clear thatlaughing pained Oliver's damaged ribs. The following morning, the Bretons were escorted home.

A/N: Phew, that was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, eh? Let me know your reactions and thoughts with a comment or a vote! Thank you for reading. :)