“How is she?”
Thom opened his eyes, wincing at how gritty they felt. Must’ve fallen asleep in the chair. It was like he’d rubbed sand in them before drifting off. He twisted toward Matt, rubbing his eyes. “She’ll be fine,” he murmured. “The wounds weren’t that deep and they were pretty clean. A couple stitches in her arm and a few more ‘round her knee. Whatever she did with Phelan is what made her drop.” At least, that’s what we’re thinking it is. He frowned turning away from his brother-in-law. He stared at his wife, fast asleep in their bed, bundled in quilts.
“And yet you’re not in bed with her,” Matt said quietly as he came deeper into their cubby. “You’re asleep in the chair.”
“That was an accident,” Thom said, shooting him a wry smile. The smile faded as he leaned forward to brush hair away from Marin’s face. “Though I didn’t want to wake her. Whatever she did sucked a lot out of her. I could tell.”
“Did you buy that explanation?” Matt asked as he leaned against the wall nearby, regarding Thom with a serious look. “About what happened?”
Thom felt hollowed out, sick at heart as he shrugged. “I don’t know, Matt,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” His fingers tightened briefly in Marin’s hair. He was excited by the prospect of being a father—that was for certain—but he was worried about Marin, especially how frail she seemed to him despite the strength she seemed determined to show to everyone else.
We still don’t know why she collapsed while she was setting the wards. We still don’t know what’s really wrong with her. He swallowed bile, thoughts returning to the terrifying visions he’d had over the past few years.
I’m not going to watch her die.
Matt touched his shoulder. “She’ll be fine,” Matt said quietly. “We’ll keep an eye on her, you and I. Everything’s going to be okay. I promised you I’d help, right?”
“Right,” Thom murmured, then sighed, knuckling his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m just worried.”
“I wish I could blame you for being that way.” Matt exhaled, straightening. “Get some sleep, Thom. Things’ll be better in the morning.”
He snorted humorlessly. “It’s my job to say that.” Or hers. “You’re not the Seer here.”
“I’m not,” Matt admitted. “But I know it’s the truth anyhow. Sleep. You’ll both feel better. We’ll all feel better.”
“How late is it, anyway?” Thom asked as he slowly unfolded from his chair, stiff and sore. He’d changed out of his bloody clothes after the fight while Jacqueline saw to Marin. She’d made short enough work of that and then had a look at Thom’s array of gashes and bruises, giving him a few stitches of his own. He, Cameron, and Marin had taken the brunt of the assault on the front lines. Thordin only had a few minor injuries and Matt and Rory were apparently untouched. Thordin said they’d been lucky.
Maybe he was right.
“I just got off the first watch,” Matt said.
Eleven or so, then. Thom nodded. No wonder he felt tired—he’d been up since dawn and with the melee and getting hurt and all the adrenaline wearing off…
“Guess you’re right,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Wake me when it’s time to eat something.”
Matt chuckled softly, straightening. “If I’m awake enough to make it to breakfast, I will.”
Thom nodded and watched Matt go, the door falling shut behind him. Thom stretched with a wince and rummaged around for sweats to sleep in, rubbing at his eyes.
He’s right. You need to sleep—both of you do. He glanced at Marin and smiled slightly. At least she’s going to be okay.
This time, anyway.
