Chapter 128

Hydrangea woke up hacking. Her throat sore and her head heavy.

A cloth was pressed to her lips as she continued coughing. Her breath rattled with every intake, she tried to open her eyes but she felt too tired.

After waking to the painful experience of coughing and choking on her breath multiple times, she began to wonder if the person was the Sovereign.

But no, he… he would. She admitted. He would care for her when she was sick, she could imagine him looking at her with concern filling his brown eyes. Holding the handkerchief to her mouth each time her body convulsed with painful hacking.

Her body hurt and her head pounded. Everything was so hot, she began to try and escape it, to get out of the strangling sheets. She couldn't breathe.

Someone stopped her. She couldn't resist, she had no strength. She just laid there, her breath rattling with each inhale, her body shaking as she sweat out the fever.

Every so often she was forced to drink something, it soothed her throat momentarily but her moment of peace was usually disturbed by another coughing fit.

All throughout it the Sovereign was next to her.

She'd forgiven him.

A sliver of her heart told her that she was betraying all of those girls, but… he'd changed. She could see that he wasn't the same man she'd met that night.

She was even tempted to call him Bastian. But she was afraid of saying it; it would tell him that she'd forgiven him, that she was alright with him being there for her, that she also would care if he was sick.

She would talk to him, ask him what he was doing, where he was going when he left; his answer to the latter was always that he was going to see the Tzar.

She rolled over in the bed and peeked out from under her lids. The Sovereign was sitting next to her, in his hands was a book.

She inhaled and coughed, then coughed again. He immediately helped her to sit up, his arm wrapping around her waist, and held the handkerchief to her mouth. After the coughing had ceased she breathed shallowly, her breath still catching.

"What are you reading?" She asked, her mind hazy but she was curious. She still felt hot, her skin slick with sticky sweat.

She heard him chuckle and he rested her on the bed, her head relaxing on the pillow.

"What are you reading?" She asked again, her voice breathy and quiet.

He sighed and she opened her eyes to see him resting his head on the backboard, "A book on the past Tzars of Viskogorny."

"Hmm, I haven't gotten to that one yet." She said, closing her eyes again, "I only read the one on Cadarama's Sovereigns."

"Ah, yes. One day I'll be in that book." He said dryly, "I'll be known as the Sovereign who was overthrown by his own counsel and had to traverse the dangers and perils of his own country and into another country to plead for their pity."

"Mm," She hummed, drowsiness getting the best of her, "But in the end he got his country back… in the end he was a Sovereign again…"

She drifted back into sleep. Her mind was tormented by visions and dreams of every sort; many of which she'd seen before.

Her fever became worse and her entire body ached. Her coughing racked her body to the point she didn't dare breath. She was stuck in a world of heat and voices, she only ever recognized him. She screamed in frustration at times, she just couldn't handle everything at once.

There were too many voices, too many people. She could hardly hear the Sovereign's voice, he was always distant.

Her mother would appear and she couldn't perceive why. The middle aged woman would sit next to her, her brows sometimes drawn in anger, but other times they were relaxed as she sat and hummed a song.

Hydrangea would stare at the phantom.

No thoughts crossed her mind. She simply watched the woman knit and hum the song. After watching her mother for what felt like days she fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

She awoke feeling refreshed and better than she'd felt in weeks. She took a deep breath and nearly laughed at the elation she felt when no coughing followed.

She stretched her achy limbs and sighed happily, her lungs expanded weakly but stronger than before.

"You're awake." She heard someone say. She turned her head and lazily opened her eyes to see the Sovereign in a bathrobe, his brown hair wet and his beard… gone. She blinked. His beard was gone?

"How do you feel?" He asked as he walked to the bedside, his hand landing on her cheek.

Her brow formed a crease, it was such an intimate act, especially with the concern in his eyes.

She swallowed, "I-" Her voice stopped, her dry throat refusing to release sound.

He realized that and grabbed a glass of water from somewhere near them, "Here you are."

He helped her to drink it and then she rested her head back, feeling exhausted from the small activity.

"How do you feel?" He repeated.

She swallowed once more, "I feel better." She sighed and closed her eyes, "Tired." She admitted.

He caressed her cheek with his thumb, she rather enjoyed the feel of it, "You've every reason to be tired. You've been ill for ten days."

She forced her tired eyes open, "T-ten days?!" She asked with all of the vehemence she could manage.

He hummed in the affirmative, "Yes, and I have some news. Do you think you're ready to hear it?"

"Well, how would I know?" She mumbled.

He chuckled softly, "That is true." Silence followed and she peeked her eyes open to see his features grim, his brown eyes elsewhere.

"Alright, tell me. But first let me sit up." She said, but try as she might she could not sit up on her own. Without a word he helped her, his hand gently helping her into a sitting position.

Once she was settled he ran a hand through his damp hair. She could not help but stare at his clean shaven face, she'd forgotten that he was rather pleasant to look at. The beard had almost been better because it had hidden all of that… skin.

Now that it was gone, he looked very soft, and even handsome, especially in the red and black bathrobe he was decked out in.

She felt a strange heat prickle her skin and she met his eyes. They were watching her with a curious smirk.