The War (All Chapters + Synopsis)

Chapter 15.1 - Ilena

When the sound of footsteps fades, the Brein of Mawrhydi turns to me, his expression grim.

"You know, then, don't you," he asks, no, states.

"That my brother will have no immediate family left by the end of all this?"

"It's a big possibility, but not a certainty. There's a chance that you're going to be stronger than this, that you will survive this, and I'm going to do everything in my power to ensure that you don't die," he says, and I see that glimmer of protectiveness in his eyes.

"It's not up to you whether or not I die," I rebuttal, and his weary eyes seem to grow older in front of me.

"I know, but as your father, it's my responsibility to try," he says, speaking the thing I didn't want to hear.

"My father died on a battlefield twenty years ago," I respond stubbornly. I know that by blood the Brein is my father, but the only one who actually counted was the one my brother and I shared, King Norman.

"Ilena, I know you dislike it, but I am your father," my father sighs. "You should know that Katlyn and your brother suspect this."

"I could tell," I whisper, and it's true. The whole time it looked like they both wanted to ask me something important. The question was practically being shouted at me.

"Ilena, you need to tell them," my father says, and I glare at him. "You need to tell them or I will, because they need to understand how dangerous it is for you to even do parlor tricks like changing your features."

"I will tell them, but, Lues might never trust me again."

"That's always a risk with keeping secrets, losing those closest to you."

***

"My lady!" The maid shrieks as she enters the room. "You shouldn't be trying to move, you could reopen the wounds!"

"I'll be fine," I assure the worried woman. My legs are dangling over the side of the bed, and I'm holding onto one of the four posts of the bed frame.

Tentatively, I reach out my feet to the ground, and flatten them against the cold stone. With a careful push, I stand shakily. When I'm sure I won't fall over, I release the post, and take a step forward.

The very motion hurts, but I succeed at that step, then another, before reaching one of the cushioned chairs and falling into it. I sit there for a moment, breathing heavily. The wounds on my side burn and I can tell that at least one of the various cuts on my body has reopened, just as the maid warned it would.

Speaking of the maid, she runs to me and calls for someone to bring fresh water, medical supplies, and crutches. The items come, carried in by servants wearing the purple and bronze of the Frenhinol family, my family. The maid helps me lift up the plain cotton shirt, and then cleans the wound with gauze and that evil liquid called alcohol. I bite back a hiss as the cold substance bites into my open wound, and then try not to wince as she bandages the wound once more.

The crutches come just as she finishes, and with much embarrassment on my part she helps me to find my balance with the crutches under my arms. I hobble forward, trying to mimic the motions of too many soldiers on the battlefield. I wonder how the armies I once commanded, do command, are faring. Are they safe with their families? Are they training? Have they been butchered in the War?

The maid holds the door open, and I move myself into the hallway on momentum and the strength of my arms. The crutches hit the ground with a crack every time I move them. I'm sure that my brother and Katlyn and Amalia heard me coming from all the way down the halls. They're all waiting, when I come to where I heard their rooms were.