“I’m okay,” I croaked, giving him a weak smile. “Could I have some water, please?”
“Of course.”
He passed me my cup. I took a grateful sip as Gillie shuffled into the room, yawning widely.
“How you feeling, lad?”
“Like shit.”
He grunted. “We’ll eat breakfast in here. I’ll make some toast.”
I managed to sip some tea and eat a single slice before exhaustion made me sag. Nua helped me lie back down and I finally fell into a fitful sleep.
When I woke, I could tell it was night-time. My arm ached unbearably, shooting pain throbbing through my whole body. I tried to keep quiet, but a weak cry escaped when I moved just an inch, and then Nua was there, kneeling over me, pressing a cool, damp cloth to my forehead.
He murmured soothingly to me. Gillie was pushing some leaves into my mouth and telling me to chew, saying it would help with the pain. I obeyed without hesitation, desperate for anything that would lessen the agony even a little.
I forced myself not to cry, but I wanted to weep like a little boy. It hurt. It hurtso much. I wanted my dad. I wanted Mags. I wanted to be back home in my childhood bed, listening to them pottering about in the kitchen downstairs.
Then the painful desires shifted, and I was suddenly desperate for my cottage. My bed there. I tried to distract myself with memories, even though they shouldn’t have been comforting. But my brain twisted them until I imagined someone there with me. Someone with gentle, callused hands and a low, husky voice soothing me, long hair trailing over my skin and warm lips fitting against mine.
Whoever they are, they’d look after me, I thought feverishly. I knew they would. I wanted them, but I didn’t know who they were. I didn’t know who I was thinking about every time the intense grief and longing made my chest tight. Made me absently reach up to my throat.
And it was only getting worse. Something feltwrong, and I had no idea what. I had my arm back, but it still felt like I was missing something vital.
And then Iwascrying. Huge, wracking sobs that made the pain stab through my arm and into my chest. I was only faintly aware of Nua trying to comfort me, long fingers pushing back my damp hair, a wet cloth cooling my heated skin.
I cried for more than my arm, more than the pain, and I couldn’t stop, even though I didn’t know why.