In Which Viridis Opens Her Eyes

May 29, 1174

In the groggy haze between sleep and waking, all Viridis knew was the cold. She flailed around in search of the blankets, but found them as tight as she could have hoped; shivering, she clutched at the edges of her sleeves and pulled them over her hands.

She wished she was still asleep. It had been warm in her dream. A meadow--a sunny Midsummer meadow, with green grass and blue skies and flowers of every color. Just her. Her and someone. Tall, strong, red-haired someone.

"Viridis?"

The name sounded faraway, but one didn't go through as many faint spells as she had without learning the difference between reality and hallucination. The word had been said and someone wanted an answer. With some difficulty, she rolled onto her back and peeled back her eyelids--if only for a second. "...Papa?"

"Mmm." Her father leaned forward from his seat at her bedside and took hold of her hand, never mind the blanket in between. "Feeling any better, angel?"

It was a struggle to speak, so she compromised with a half-nod. Her father knew what she meant, though. He always did. "Your color is starting to come back. I'd say that's a good sign."

And yet, she was still cold. She must have been nothing short of ghastly. She didn't remember much about the past few days, but she did faintly recall being weaker than she was now. At least that was something.

"Your cousin was here." He sounded mournful, resigned, maybe even defeated. But why? What was wrong with her cousin? And which cousin? Viridis had dozens of cousins--surely none of whom her father disliked? "Searle. He brought you some daffodils. They're on your vanity."

Daffodils... He remembered? They'd gone for a walk when he'd last come to see her. They'd passed a patch of daffodils and she'd told him they were her favorite. It had been an off-hand comment and he hadn't responded. She'd only meant to fill the silence, but the words now filled the vase on her vanity. "Searle..."

"Hush." Her father rose to his feet and hovered over her, pressing his lips to her forehead. "You're a little warm. I'm going to fetch you a cold cloth; just try to rest a little more, all right?"

He hurried out the door and she did as she was told. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to rest. She opened her eyes only once more--only to strain her neck and balance her shaking body on her elbows for just a glimpse of the daffodils.

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