Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I do. It's absolutely miserable and I can't imagine how these people can function during the cold months. From what I've been told, it's far, far colder to the north of here, but the drakoni can have those lands as far as I'm concerned. This is as icy as I want to get. "I'm fine. You're not. Put it on."
Melina drops her blanket and clumsily pushes one arm through one of my sleeves. I help her with the other, worried at how weak she seems. Her skin seems warm enough when my fingers brush over her, but her lack of energy concerns me.
Once she has the robe on, I drop to my knees in front of her and button it up, then layer the blankets on top of her again. "One of the men will be bringing more blankets soon. Until then, I'm going to get some soup inside you. Are you still cold?"
"I'm okay," she whispers.
"That remains to be seen," I retort. "You don't look okay to me. You look as if you're falling apart. Are you pining away because you're missing me? I read in a book recently that a princess did that because her father wouldn't let her marry the fool prince she wanted. Here I thought you were stronger than that, but perhaps not." I watch her to see if my barbs make her perk up and fight, but she just huddles on the bed, as if it takes all her energy to sit there and do nothing.
Hmm.
I grab the container of soup and peel the lid off, then spoon a bit of it and hold it out to her. "Eat."
"I can feed myself," Melina protests weakly.
"Yes, you're clearly doing a spectacular job with it. Just eat, all right?" I hold the spoon to her lips. For a moment her eyes flash with a bit of her old fire, but then she obediently opens her mouth and allows me to feed her.
Melina manages a few bites before she shakes her head. "No more."
"You've barely eaten enough to keep a child alive," I protest. My worry continues to rise. This isn't the fierce, independent creature that holds my heart. The woman in front of me is fragile and struggling. "Are you…would you tell me if something was bothering you, Melina? Something else that perhaps I've done?"
Have I somehow done something else that would upset her and cause her to not eat or drink? I've heard of dishonored generals taking their own lives with poison, but surely Melina wouldn't do such a thing. She would poison me before she would ever poison herself. Even so, something seems amiss.
"I'm just really tired," she whispers. "And cold."
Still?
I reach out and stroke her cheek and she immediately grabs my hand, clinging to it. "You're so warm, Azar." She presses my hand to her cheek and to my surprise, her fingers are ice cold even if her face is not. "Can you help me warm up? Just for a little?"
Something is wrong. She has barely wanted to look at me since the truth came out and I set the drakoni free. I nod, stroking her face and she closes her eyes, leaning into my touch. I think of her clinic, full of sick people and a new, chokingly terrifying thought hits me. What if these people have gotten my mate sick? Salorians do not get sickness, nor do drakoni, but I've heard the militia talk about how people are “down with a bug.” It took me days to realize it was not sickness due to insects, or food, but an illness of some kind.
Does Melina have an illness?
I have to know. I take her hand in mine, pressing a kiss to her icy fingers. "I'll be right back, my heart. There is something I must do. Can you lie down for a bit?"
She nods, curling up on the cot, her eyes closed. She looks so small and helpless that it fills me with panic. I want to grab her and carry her back to my bed in the compound, where she belongs, but I know it would just make her angry. If she's going to stay here, I want some answers, though. Heading out of her office, I peer around the clinic, searching for the male assistant. What was his name again? I don't recall, and it doesn't matter. I find him wearing one of the red armbands and helping someone with their blankets. "You. Come with me."
The male pushes his glasses up his nose and gives me a curious look, staring at my bare chest. "Is everything all right?"
"If it was, would I need you? Now follow," I snap. "Something is wrong with Melina."
He trails after me as I rush back to my mate's side. Melina is where I left her, a slight form on the cot huddled in clothing and blankets. I kneel at her side, taking her hand and frowning at how cold it is. Why are her fingers like ice when her face is so warm? I stroke her cheek, cradling her cold hand against my heart. I'm here, I say silently. I will take care of you.