The young woman remained still and silent, numb in the face of his anger. She didn’t want to step up in her family. She could hardly manage the responsibility of raising their children not to mention her new command. The thought of tackling anything else or carrying any additional burdens was terrifying. More than anything, she wanted Malcolm’s support and his help. His steady guidance when facing the rest of the world and if he didn’t want to fight the world beside her…then at least he could hold her hand. Wasn’t that what a partnership was about? Wasn’t that the basis of love? Caring for one another beyond the romantic. He was angry though, and she realised hurt by what Caelan had done. She knew the feeling, distraught by the actions of her Mother she’d stopped talking to the woman though in some ways it had made the skyrider feel free. Untethered by a tainted past, she no longer lived in the shadow of a lie. It wouldn’t have been her choice though, despite her demands that Malcolm remove it – Elyna had never undertaken action herself and she would have lived with it.
One of the only things I care about. It struck her like a blow. She hadn’t known he’d cared about their marriage. They never spoke about it, and he’d stopped calling her his wife, because she’d asked him to. It had faded from memory. It had felt like a weight around their ankles…an inconvenience to him. There had been so much time, so many opportunities for them to put right the wrong. Yet not a word had been broached of renewing their vows, of making their marriage legal. That had hurt. Almost as much as Malcolm’s betrayal – that he’d married her in the belief that Vanessa was still alive. He moved away and she was left to watch him. He changed his mind and returned.
“It’s important,” she forced herself to remain calm and speak evenly, “because you kissed Violet…and you slept with that slave…and it doesn’t seem as though there was much of a marriage to dissolve” tears lined her lashes until she wiped them away. She didn’t want to fight with him. The young woman could see his intake of breath, his preparation to shout and then – nothing.
He launched forward, arm wrapped over his chest and struggling for air. She was on her knees, watching him. Elyna was a field medic, not a healer or a surgeon. Panic was quick to rise and make her hands shake as she reached for him, smoothing her hands down his back, smacking the muscles in case there was something caught in his throat. But what though? He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything. His skin was red, coated with sweat and she stripped the blankets and sheets back away from him.
Only when he eased back, did the air flow his lungs. He breathed a word and she was already running. Elyna sprinted down the corridor and down the stairs as quick as her legs would carry her. She stood, lost for a moment in the unfamiliar room before finding a glass and filling it. She slipped on the stairs back to the room, smacking her knee against the wood and splitting the skin. Stumbling over the top step she steadied herself and returned. The young woman knelt down beside him on the bed, pressing the glass gently into his hand. With shivering limbs she helped guide it to his mouth for a few sips.
“Mal?” She whispered, eyes wide with fear, “tell me what to do…”
One of the only things I care about. It struck her like a blow. She hadn’t known he’d cared about their marriage. They never spoke about it, and he’d stopped calling her his wife, because she’d asked him to. It had faded from memory. It had felt like a weight around their ankles…an inconvenience to him. There had been so much time, so many opportunities for them to put right the wrong. Yet not a word had been broached of renewing their vows, of making their marriage legal. That had hurt. Almost as much as Malcolm’s betrayal – that he’d married her in the belief that Vanessa was still alive. He moved away and she was left to watch him. He changed his mind and returned.
“It’s important,” she forced herself to remain calm and speak evenly, “because you kissed Violet…and you slept with that slave…and it doesn’t seem as though there was much of a marriage to dissolve” tears lined her lashes until she wiped them away. She didn’t want to fight with him. The young woman could see his intake of breath, his preparation to shout and then – nothing.
He launched forward, arm wrapped over his chest and struggling for air. She was on her knees, watching him. Elyna was a field medic, not a healer or a surgeon. Panic was quick to rise and make her hands shake as she reached for him, smoothing her hands down his back, smacking the muscles in case there was something caught in his throat. But what though? He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything. His skin was red, coated with sweat and she stripped the blankets and sheets back away from him.
Only when he eased back, did the air flow his lungs. He breathed a word and she was already running. Elyna sprinted down the corridor and down the stairs as quick as her legs would carry her. She stood, lost for a moment in the unfamiliar room before finding a glass and filling it. She slipped on the stairs back to the room, smacking her knee against the wood and splitting the skin. Stumbling over the top step she steadied herself and returned. The young woman knelt down beside him on the bed, pressing the glass gently into his hand. With shivering limbs she helped guide it to his mouth for a few sips.
“Mal?” She whispered, eyes wide with fear, “tell me what to do…”
