In Which Holladrin Finds the Bitter Truth

March 5, 1176

If the angle of the sun had anything to say about it, it had been nearly noon when Holladrin had woken--about an hour ago now. Her husband, if she'd even been well enough for him to share the bed, would have left some hours prior. She'd resigned herself to the reality that he might not get a chance to see her until the evening, but it seemed that the heavens were smiling down on her, as he strolled into the room just as she'd considered getting dressed and going about her usual routine. "Glad to see you awake."

His voice was both tired and relieved. Holladrin's heart beat as though filled with lead. She wished she wouldn't worry the poor man so. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

"Of course you're not." Octavius smiled at her, then nudged the door back into place and set course for the empty side of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Just a little light-headed." She nudged herself upward a couple inches against the headboard, the pillow firmer than she remembered against her tired spine. "Much better than yesterday."

"The day before, you mean."

Holladrin raised an eyebrow. Surely he did not mean...? "I slept through all of yesterday?"

A thick lump of everything and nothing formed in her throat and only swelled when he nodded. "Well... maybe not quite all of it. But the important thing is that you're awake now. Anyway, should I send for some breakfast? Or just water, perhaps?"

"Ellene already brought me some water and a bit of fruit; I should be all right for now." Good old Ellene. She'd practically had the meal waiting for her, fresh yet prompt, just the perfect amount. Holladrin wondered what would come of her maid when she passed. She hoped someone would take Ellene on--but with her skills, perhaps that was a needless worry. Maybe Pandora would take her, and then Thallie could have the girl they currently shared all to herself.

Ah, but maybe it was still too early to worry about dying just yet--after all, had she not had worse? And maybe it was a bit selfish to dwell on her own health; there were always others in dire straights, after all. "How is your brother?"

"Quartus?" She nodded. Octavius sighed. "Well... not any worse."

"But not any better."

"No." He let his head fall back against the board, his hazel eyes waning beneath the weight of his lashes. "Old Hilla says a whore in the local brothel and three other men in the area are down with the same thing. I suppose at least he was doing what he loved?"

"I suppose," Holladrin agreed, though the thought seemed bittersweet at best and her husband's melancholy did little to help. But she supposed she could understand; she had brothers too. "Odd, though. He was always so healthy before."

"That he was." An audible breath escaping him, Octavius raised his hand to the back of his neck and gave it a quick rub. "Then again, I suppose no one ever knows."

As if there was ever a more bitter truth. "No. No one ever does."

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