The Last Stand (The Eleven Years War: Book One) (Wattys 2019)

Chapter Twenty

Fairly soon after Chaya had died, leaving Blair without a mother and Raul without a lover, Raul had written a letter to Blair. One that he never intended to send, at least, not until he thought Blair was ready. In it, he detailed what had transpired between himself and Chaya in that year Raul lived in Abunaken. Specifically about how Blair was conceived and how his mother was poisoned soon after his birth. And how Raul had killed the man who he suspected of ordering it: none other than King Dieter, himself.

That was the letter that sat heavy in his inside coat pocket that night as he watched the doctors work on Blair. He was going to die: frankly, he was shocked that he'd survived the trip back to Thaos. Finn and Bram had brought him in screaming in pain: it had taken four doctors to hold him down long enough to force some honeyed wine down his throat. He was unconscious, now, allowing the doctors to work on him as much as they needed to. As much as they could. Raul highly doubted that it would be enough.

At that point, he was just waiting for the doctors to leave so he could talk to Blair. He couldn't let him die without knowing who his was: he respected him far too much for that. But... he didn't need all of those doctors knowing about his dirty laundry, either.

All he could do at that point was hope that Blair would live long enough for him to talk to him.

The doctor stood up and walked over to Raul. Raul knew that look on his face, the way he couldn't quite seem to meet his eye: he had news that he didn't think Raul would like.

"He's going to die." The question came out as more of a statement.

"General, we-"

"I didn't ask for an explanation," Raul said. "Is he, or is he not, going to die?"

The doctor didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then, he sighed. "Most likely, yes. We've done everything we can for him, but... it's in the hands of God, now."

Raul looked back at Blair. He wasn't surprised, but... part of him was still sad. He'd wanted a son for longer than he cared to remember, wanted to teach someone of his own flesh and blood how to ride a horse, how to write, how to fight, how to talk to girls; he hated that that opportunity had been taken from him because his relationship with Chaya wasn't considered proper.

"Is he in pain?" Raul asked, looking back at the doctor.

"I wish I could say he wasn't, but... well, that would be a lie," the doctor said. "At this point, the only thing we can really do is make him comfortable for his passing. We've given him honeyed wine with cocca, as much as we can while still stretching the supplies out until the supply ships get here."

Raul sighed.

"Can I have the room?" Raul asked.

The doctor seemed surprised by that. "General, I-"

"I would like to be in the room alone with al'Heida," Raul repeated. "Please take yourself and your associates out of the room. And don't disturb me until I let you back in."

The doctor still seemed hesitant about it. Raul couldn't exactly blame him: he was sure that the doctor likely thought that he would slit the boy's throat, put him out of his misery. He would be lying if he said that he hadn't thought about it, but... he didn't think that that was the right thing to do. Why? He couldn't decide. But he wouldn't have gotten that far in his life without listening to his gut, every once and awhile.

The doctor did a quick bow, then forced all of the doctors to leave. Leaving Raul alone with his bastard son.

He took a deep breath as he took the letter out from his coat pocket.