Chapter 16: CHAPTER SIXTEEN - SOUR CANDY

The bedroom chambers were quiet, save for the tender sounds of breathing, measured and cautious. A physician with long greying hair mimicked the breathing motions with her wrinkled hands, an encouraging smile on her kind face.

“Excellent,” the physician murmured, her voice calm. “Let the air flow as naturally as possible, don’t strain yourself.”

Naomi’s eyes lowered in concentration - ignoring the sharp pain that flared since she had awoken - every movement careful as she followed the slow rhythm to the doctor’s words. The Duchess of Monroe sat propped against a rigid seat as Cressida rubbed her back soothingly from behind. With each breath, Naomi’s chest rose and fell deliberately, though a slight wheeze whispered through the still-weak muscles around her throat. Her ribs groaned in response to the movement, making each intake shallow and painful.

“That’s great. Now, let’s practice with some more speaking,” the doctor said. “Start with your name.”

Naomi’s eyes flickered to the side, meeting Cressida’s, both mirroring a flash of anxiety. She felt her friend squeeze her shoulders reassuringly. “You can do it, my lady.”

Naomi nodded quickly, taking a small intake of breath. “My name.. is..” she swallowed another breath of air. “...Naomi Rosenthorn…”

“Wonderful,” the physician murmured as she reached for her notepad, scribbling a few notes. “That’s already steps ahead from the last check up. How about my name?”

“Doctor Brenna…” Naomi could not help but feel a triumph in her chest. She turned to Cressida stiffly, careful not to agitate her ribs. “Cressida.. Thank.. you.. for being here.”

Cressida’s deep green eyes sparkled. “Of course, my lady!”

The doctor nodded at her determination. “Very good, Your Grace. Remarkable progress for a week of rehabilitation; I’d be surprised if your innate magic doesn’t accelerate your healing rate. I’ll just take off your brace now to assess your condition.”

She nodded before lifting her chin slightly in non-verbal consent, steeling herself not to flinch at the physical contact; but her hands shook anyway as she forced the image of Alistair’s rough hands around her out of her mind. The physician reached forward to undo the clasp of Naomi’s neck brace, sliding it away to reveal the bruised skin beneath - clusters of deep yellow and green bloomed around the skin. Most of the swelling had gone down substantially, but it was clear that the king had done extensive damage.

Doctor Brenna pressed lightly along the tender flesh, watching Naomi’s eyes for any flicker of pain. “Your recovery is progressing very well for such a severe case of strangulation,” she said. “The muscles are still healing, but strong enough that we can go without the brace. It’ll help with restrengthening your ligaments.”

Naomi swallowed cautiously as she lifted a hand towards her face. “And my… eye?”

“As I’ve said before, since the shard had exploded so close to your face, it’s expected that residual dust might cause irritation.”

Naomi looked to Cressida, her maid understanding immediately with unspoken words. Cressida clasped her hands together. “Doctor Brenna, my lady means to say… the pain has been consistent, and worsening, in fact.”

“Much worse,” Naomi croaked, nodding. Even now, the ache behind her right eye pulsed heavily. “And the.. vision…”

Cressida elaborated. “During the fight, my lady had experienced a moment where her vision… shifted, unexpectedly. She was able to view things from another person’s perspective.”

”And by ‘another person’ you mean Duke Rivain, correct? He was involved in the incident as well.” Doctor Brenna questioned, though it was almost rhetorical.

Naomi nodded, unable to meet her eyes. She swore the pain intensified at the mention of his name.

Doctor Brenna jotted down more notes as she crossed her legs, sighing softly. “The shard was of ancient magic, correct? There is a chance that your symptoms may be… a result of said magic, or it could have easily been due to the physical trauma during the invasion. I’m sorry that I can’t say for certain why. My expertise lies primarily with human physiology.”

“Is there anything we can do in the meantime to help her?” Cressida squeaked.

“Well,” Doctor Brenna tapped her pencil. “I would recommend speaking to Duke Rivain to see if he’s been experiencing anything similar. Perhaps the two of you could find some common ground. Otherwise, it would be best to rest and flush your eyes with some water if the irritation continues.”

Naomi’s face dropped, and the physician offered a small, sympathetic smile as she gathered her notes. “For now, we will focus on your vocal recovery. If these eye episodes worsen or change, though, let me know right away.”

We just did, Naomi thought, frustration simmering beneath her. Thanks a lot.

Doctor Brenna gave a slight bow before departing, the door clicking shut. Cressida glanced at Naomi, her pale eyes clouded with unease as her fingers thrummed against her knees.

”My lady, maybe it would be a good idea to speak to the duke?”

Naomi shook her head, her lips parting to speak but no words came out. Cressida held out her hand as Naomi took it, leading her towards the bed with careful, small steps. The two women sat together in silence, and Cressida simply waited in patience until she was ready to speak. Naomi’s heart felt heavy - the weight of regret was almost suffocating.

”Everything is… my fault,” she whispered, each word a careful effort. She rubbed at the space beside her right eye. “People dying, getting hurt… Because of me.”

“We’ve been over this. You did the best that you could with what you knew at the time,” Cressida’s eyes flared defensively, squeezing her hand. “My lady, I know you don’t want to speak with him, but I think at the very least it would be good to clear the air.”

“I don’t know.. how I could face him. How do I explain that I thought… he tried to kill me?” Naomi could not stop the tears from glazing her eyes, face darkened with shame.

Cressida began mimicking the breathing motions that Doctor Brenna had demonstrated in an attempt to calm Naomi down. “Ice magic only belongs to descendants of Rivain, who could fault you for thinking the attack started from him? And I’m sure the duke knows that as well, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Then who else.. Could it have come from?”

Cressida shook her head, red hair swaying. “I’m sorry that no one has answered that yet, my lady.”

Naomi thought for awhile before she spoke again, her eyes downcast and voice strained. “Do you think…it… he… was a mistake? I need you to be… honest with me.”

Cressida considered her words carefully, offering a gentle smile. “Sometimes, when we’re not used to such positive attention… even the smallest kindness can feel like everything. You grew up in a life with impossible expectation and caution, where trust was a scarcity even in your own circle.” She paused for a moment. “My lady, do you remember several years back, the late Duchess had complimented your handling of the court, and the praise was so unexpected and rare that you were shell shocked?”

“Yes, well... Mother was not the greatest at… expressing positive emotions,” Naomi said, her tone bitter. “I’m sorry, but I don’t quite… understand what you’re getting at.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Caring for someone is rarely simple. And with such a bad history between your Houses… It's hard to build anything clean. Maybe neither of you ever truly had the chance to be known as just yourselves.”

“And you think that… I thr. Her stomach twisted as he continued. “Simply saying ‘sorry’ will never be enough for what happened to you.”

Say something to him, She thought to herself, a million thoughts running through her mind at once. DO something, anything!

She looked at him then, deliberately, for the first time in weeks. His jawline was sharp with tension, the shadows beneath his eyes darker than she’d ever seen. His midnight hair had grown out slightly, swooping back in waves and framing his strikingly handsome face. He looked at her too in that exact moment, and for a single breath, the same look of vulnerability passed between them.

“You… You don’t have to- you shouldn’t be apologizing to me,” Naomi blurted out. “It was me. It was all me.”

“Naomi-”

“No, don’t try to defend me,” Her voice was distraught. “I cut you off, like it was inevitable that you would be everything I’ve ever been told. Everything I actually knew about you… I threw it away, like it was nothing.”

Naomi ran her hands through her hair as she gave a half-laugh, half-sob, looking away. “You don’t owe me an apology or any kind of forgiveness. I’m less than deserving of it - and I’m sorry it took me so long to finally admit it.”

Cassien was quiet for some time. “...At the very least, I hope you find it within you to forgive yourself.”

She blinked away tears, her voice hoarse. “After everything… How are you so okay? You should hate me, resent me.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t bitter,” He replied in a low voice. “But hating you takes more strength than I have in me. And I have plenty of hate directed at someone else.”

Her heart stuttered at his words. “You mean…?”

“Yes,” He gritted his teeth. “Alistair Seraveth. That bastard is going to pay for everything he did.”

“And what will revenge accomplish?”

“It’ll make things right - make it even. For what he did to you, the prince and princess, this entire city and its people, and for me,” Cassien replied harshly. “Don’t tell me you never considered it.”

“Why would I? What good would that do for us now?”

“So you’d just let him get away with it?”

Their eyes met as Naomi’s brow scrunched. “I don’t think revenge is going to help the way you think it will.”

“With all due respect,” Cassien’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. “Your thoughts on this matter doesn’t hold the same weight as it did before.”

Naomi’s first instinct was to feel offended, a rebuke readied at her lips - but her breath caught as she realized that deep down, he had every right to dismiss her from the pedestal she had been atop of.

She cleared her throat as she looked away. “Then don’t pretend like I’m part of the reason why you want revenge - don’t make yourself out to be some vigilante for justice. You’re out for blood, pure and simple.”

“And what if I am?” He said curtly.

“Then you’re not the man I thought you were.”

Cassien exhaled a laugh, clipped and almost unkind. “So much for asking for my forgiveness, huh? Guess I really am a northern brute after all.”

The sting of his words cut deeper than she cared to admit, reeling towards him as she stood from her cot. “Could you blame me? Seeing as you think it’s fine to use other people as a sick justification for settling a debt.”

He turned to her, body tense. “It’s not like I’m dragging you or anyone else out to fight him with me.”

“Then don’t use me or my honor as an excuse to do so!”

Cassien rose to meet her, his broad frame casting a long shadow as he looked down at Naomi. He ignored the pain that ran across his chest - it was better this way, if she hated him - as the next words flew out his mouth.

“...Maybe it’s best if we don't associate with one another anymore.”

Her eyes flickered with something indescribable. “Maybe it is.”

Naomi’s heart pounded as she stood her ground, fists clenched at her sides. Cassien's golden eyes narrowed, his every muscle taut. This was the closest they had been since the incident; Naomi focused every ounce of willpower she had not to drown in his scent, and he in the pools of her eyes. But whether it was because of sheer stubbornness or a deep resentment, neither dared move another muscle or to speak another word.

The air between them crackled with unyielding fire, thick with tension; so much left unsaid, but every hurt too deep for words to express.n it already is,” Thom grinned as he re-gripped the handle of his sword. “Got tired of wasting away in your chambers, huh?”

“Did you keep track of the days or something?” Cassien said coolly, eyes flickering towards his friend’s stance. Thom was never a discreet individual - his challenge was loud and clear. “Hoping that I’m injured enough that you might finally stand a chance?”

A drawl of Ooo’s echoed around them, and some of the soldiers began to chant under their breath. Clearly, they were starved for entertainment.

“I’m not so crude that I need you to be injured to win,” Thom circled outwards, creating space as the audience backed away. “But it definitely helps.”

Cassien’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of old fire igniting despite the pain. “Well then,” he said, drawing his sword with deliberate care, “let’s see if your confidence holds up under pressure.”

“Be careful, Duke Rivain,” Kabarro said, giving a thumbs up at Cassien. “Lord Paldarin has been practicing every day since you’ve been out.”

“Good,” Cassien replied. “At least then he won’t have an excuse.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd as anticipation built. Thom adopted his fighting stance, eyes gleaming with challenge and a playful grin tugging at his lips. Cassien tightened his grip on his sword, every muscle coiled and ready. He flexed his injured leg in preparation and ignored the growing sensation behind his eye.

With a quick nod, Thom lunged forward, and the sparring began.

The sharp clang of steel echoed through the training grounds as Cassien met Thom’s forward lunge with a steady parry repeatedly. Every movement sent a dull ache through his ribs, and he braced each impact with a heavy breath, forcing his leg to keep up. He was glad at least, his fingers had mended quickly. Thom continued his attacks cockily, though there was no real viciousness behind his strikes; even the soldiers watched in low murmurs rather than cheers of excitement. Cassien knew then this duel was not an assessment of his skills, but simply a measure on how his recovery was going. But that didn’t mean that Thom was going easy on him either - after all, a Marquis’s son would be expected to at least be respectable in swordsmanship skill.

“You’re holding back,” Thom commented, his strikes growing more unpredictable, pushing Cassien’s stamina.

A sudden thrust aimed at Cassien’s side made him stagger, a sharp jab of pain radiating from his ribs. He gritted his teeth and countered with a swift riposte, forcing Thom to step back just as the tip of their swords clashed.

For a brief moment, their blades were locked. “Not bad for a wounded duke.”

The corners of Cassien’s mouth twitched upwards. He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled, no matter how small. “Don’t get used to it.”

Cassien dashed forward with unexpected speed, a sharp shrill filling the air as the edge of his blade dragged against Thom’s, forcing his opponent back another step. Just as he stepped - almost as if he crossed an invisible threshold - a burst of pain exploded behind Cassien’s left eye, enough to black out his vision. It sent shockwaves through his skull, causing him to stagger mid strike, dropping to his knees as his sword skittered across the ground. Thom’s eyes widened as he quickly redirected his swing before rushing to Cassien’s side.

He steadied his friend, Cassien’s jaw was clenched so tightly that a vein bulged. ‘What’s wrong? Cassien, talk to me!”

Cassien pressed a hand to his temple, the pain radiating like wildfire - he couldn’t find a single breath to speak through the agony.

Just a few hundred paces away in the castle’s front courtyard where a horse carriage awaited, a brutal wave of agony originating from her right eye coursed through Naomi’s skull, mirroring Cassien’s torment. Her eyes rolled back, her body going limp as she fell backwards from the carriage steps. A delicate cream shawl untangled from her neck, exposing the paling yellow bruises.

Cressida flung her basket of carefully packaged food, fruits and dessert pastries scattering across the cobblestones as she just barely caught Naomi. “My lady!”

Soldiers and attendants rushed forward - both for Cassien and Naomi - as their respective friends exclaimed for assistance at their sudden collapse. Cassien was steadied by Thom, who barked orders at the dumbfounded soldiers to grab hold of the duke. Naomi was carefully lifted atop a cotton stretcher brought out by several maids while Cressida whispered soothing words - almost more for herself than Naomi, her eyes filled with worry and tears.

The respective parties moved swiftly through the castle’s corridors as the opposing distance between them shrank with each hurried step. Every person caught in the halls exclaimed in surprise as they pressed their body against the walls, creating as much space as possible for the passing groups. Finally, their paths converged near the castle’s centre, just outside the infirmary’s heavy wooden doors - the urgent shouts of two separate groups merged into a singular clamor. But at the very moment Cassien and Naomi’s physical proximity crossed just before they entered the threshold of the infirmary at the same time, the relentless agony that had clawed at their minds abruptly ceased.

For Naomi, the relief was overwhelming, a flood of sensation so profound it brought tears to her eyes as her vision blurred back into view, consciousness returning. She blinked rapidly, adjusting to the commotion around her. Cassien felt the crushing pressure lift, as if a thousand pounds had been unshackled from around his skull, the relief as sweet as honey. They both had almost forgotten what life was like without the chronic pain plaguing them.

As they burst through the doors, Naomi began to sit up on the stretcher with greater ease than she had in weeks; Cassien opened his eyes as the men readjusted their grip under his broad shoulders, some steadying his legs. In the midst of the chaos - for the first time in weeks - their eyes met.

Time seemed to falter, the noise fading into a muted backdrop as they held each other’s gaze - an intense flurry of intense emotions that couldn’t be deciphered even if Prince Aryn’s abilities were to witness it: regret, relief, longing, guilt, disbelief, anger, and deep, grieving sadness - all flashed in a single, charged moment before they were separated once more.