Chapter 116: Lingering aches
Special? She thought. It felt dangerous hearing it aloud. Wrong, almost, like something forbidden had suddenly been dragged into the light for others to see.
But if special was the word, she doubted. Not special, she thought. Useful.
Lucrezia looked away quickly, pulse racing wildly beneath her skin. "I-I do not think to refer myself by that term,"
There was a silent look on Rheonara’s face, almost displeasure disguised by false neutrality. While Vaeloria possessed quite the ability to disguise her emotions, Rheonara’s was like an open book, easy to read. Lucrezia could sense her dislike almost from a mile away.
"You’re lucky to have survived the attack. A very few would’ve crossed the threshold, but the possibility of making it through would’ve been thin," She stated, and Lucrezia felt a wave of nostalgia hit her. The interrogation in her tone held suspicion that didn’t go by unnoticed.
"Vespera..." She started, only to be interrupted.
"I figured," Rheonara said, almost dismissively. "What else could it have been?"
The question sounded almost rhetorical, but there was something beneath it—an almost patronizing disbelief, as though the very idea of Lucrezia being capable of anything more than what she had shown was absurd. Her gaze lingered on her with the faintest trace of condescension, as though she were nothing more than a fragile mortal who could hardly harm a fly, much less be responsible for something so dangerous.
A small sense of relief nonetheless washed over Lucrezia.
Thankfully, Rheonara did not press further and straightened slightly, composure slipping back over her features like armor returning into place. Whatever brief amusement had surfaced disappeared just as quickly.
"I shall not tire you further," She said at last, and one would consider her gesture caring if not Lucrezia who knew better than her sweet disguise.
Then her expression softened enough to dull the edge usually present within her gaze, but not entirely capable of diminishing the amusement in them when she said, "Wishing you a safe recovery, Lady Anastasia."
The title startled Lucrezia more than it should have. Before she could gather words enough to respond, Rheonara had already turned away.
Her dark robes whispered against the floor as she crossed the chamber, every movement graceful and composed. The servants immediately stepped aside for her, bowing their heads once more as she approached the doors. And without another word, she left, the heavy doors closing behind her with a muted sound.
For a while, Lucrezia sat there alone while the servants finished tidying the room around her. When the hour to eat finally arrived, the servants laid out another arrangement of food across the nearby table. Warm bread brushed with melted butter, roasted meat glazed in herbs, fruits sliced carefully upon silver trays, and steaming tea that smelled faintly of mint and cloves.
Previously, the scent alone would’ve made her stomach ache with hunger, but now, it only made her feel tired.
The brown-skinned maid gently pulled a chair back for her. "You should eat, my lady."
Lucrezia nodded faintly, though she had little desire to. Every movement still hurt.
Her body ached beneath the layers of silk draped around her, soreness curling through her muscles whenever she shifted too quickly. Even lifting the fork felt strangely exhausting.
She managed only a few bites before her appetite disappeared completely.
The servants noticed, as one exchanged a worried glance with another, but thankfully none of them spoke about it aloud. Lucrezia stared down at the untouched food for a long moment, swallowing against the tightness in her throat.
Her thoughts drifted unwillingly toward Vespera again... toward the fractured earth and the terrifying surge of power she still could not fully remember, and a quiet unease settled heavily inside her chest.
If the gods themselves were frightened... then what exactly happened that night? But Lucrezia feared she knew the answer to that question.
Her fingers curled tighter around the utensils. Drawing a slow breath, Lucrezia forced herself to continue eating despite the effort it took to swallow each bite. The food felt heavy in her mouth, almost tasteless beneath the exhaustion pressing against her body, but she endured it anyway.
Because she needed strength to recover quickly. It was at that moment that somewhere deep down, beneath all the confusion and fear twisting inside her chest, Lucrezia knew one thing with painful certainty.
Just as the Nameless King had once told her, Blackvale was no place for the weak to survive for long. His words, once spoken as a warning, now lingered in her mind as a grim motivation to endure.
The moment she concluded the breakfast, the door opened to reveal two people in a muted grey robe. From their faces, she could already tell who they were and the herbal scent that struck from the distance away.
One of them helped her back toward the bedchamber, her short dark hair framing the defined angles of her jaw, while the other—a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties—busied herself with preparing the herbal mixture.
After examining Lucrezia for lingering injuries and tending to the wounds that had not yet fully healed, the healer pressed a small cup into her hands.
The smell alone made her stomach turn.
She took a reluctant sip, only to grimace at the bitter taste that coated her tongue. It was foul, an unpleasant mixture of herbs that seemed to linger long after she had swallowed.
For the briefest moment, Rheonara’s words crossed her mind. It almost made her feel "special", but the thought disappeared the moment it came. Whatever made her different was hardly something she wished to be reminded of.
Slowly, life settled into repetition as the days that followed blurred strangely together with meals, bitter herbs, and pills pressed into her hands by stern-faced healers. There was the long hours of sleep broken by lingering aches and dreams she did not wish to remember.
Sometimes, Lucrezia woke in the middle of the night with the memory of the fair still burning behind her eyes, her chest tight and breath uneven as blood pooled down her feet. And throughout it all, there was always the same thing waiting beyond those chamber doors; contempt in glances, and other times in hushed whispers that quieted the moment she passed.
It seemed like her ability to read minds progressed as the days passed by, making her recovery slower than necessary. But she managed nonetheless, learning quickly that surviving Blackvale and being accepted by it were entirely different matters.