The men that Asta had cut down had not been there to hurt Lord Montalli’s betrothed. Asta had already assumed this, but it was confirmed in the Ravenskeep guards debriefing the day after the attack. The infiltration had been part of an attempt on a council member’s life, apparently a personal grudge rather than anything that could entangle Lord Redfallow or any of his family in an assassination plot. A few Ravenskeep guards had been killed, including Riella’s night guard. All of the intruders were dead.

As she had advised the young lady that night, it was not her concern. She had been roped in to protect some minor lord’s pet and that was all she was interested in doing. It was a shame that good men had died, but it was not as though the keep was overrun. They really should have been better prepared to fight at a moment’s notice. She supposed that was why Lord Redfallow was paying her so handsomely for this pathetic post; she was never slow to draw.

A new night guard was assigned to Riella’s door. A temporary guard had been sent to watch over her while Asta rested for the day, having spent the night sat on the cold stone, awaiting the sounds of oncoming attack. Once the temporary guard had been arranged, Asta excused herself from the rest of the guards meeting. She was not a sworn Ravenskeep guard, nothing else that was discussed would have any relevance to her or the contract she was serving for Lord Redfallow.

On her walk back to the barracks to rest, her mind wandered back to the moment when the little lady’s door had burst open. Riella, all dainty limbs, unbroken skin, and soft waving hair, coming to her rescue was both laughable and… endearing. The urge to pull the timid little woman into her arms had completely overwhelmed her. She was surprised she had found the willpower to keep from devouring her, bruising her carnation-pink lips and leaving her trembling for an entirely different reason. She cleared her throat to force her mind elsewhere, away from such completely inappropriate thoughts. The young lady belonged to Lord Montalli; she was not to be touched by others. Asta had already crossed the line when she held her after the fight, but that was truly for Riella’s benefit. At least, that would be the defense she would use if the young woman were to repeat the happenings of the previous night to anyone. Riella was far too honest for her own safety.

Time apart would help. She would spend the next day and night resting and once she returned the following morning to take up her post, such feelings would not be plaguing her. She would not imagine Riella’s delicate little body curled into hers. She would not lie in bed and fantasise about all the ways she could make such an innocent young woman blush.

Asta reached her private sleeping quarters and changed into fresh bedclothes. She did her best to block the sunlight streaming in through her window, gave up, and climbed under her blankets. After a few seconds of almost-silence, sleep was already tugging at her without mercy. She succumbed, although this meant she quickly lost control of the path her thoughts fled down. A doe-eyed woman, shivering in her nightdress, skipped through her mind as she drifted off.

A day and a night had passed when Asta resumed her post. She advanced towards the newly appointed night guard with a straight back and her usual disinterested expression. It was the best way to keep men from interacting with her any more than was necessary. He glanced up as she approached and pushed himself off from the wall he had been leaning against.

“Enjoy,” the night guard huffed. “She’s been coughing and hacking all night, driving me utterly mad…”

Asta hummed with mild concern and sent him on his way to rest in the barracks.

All was silent for the first fifteen or so minutes of her watch, then a quiet cough floated through the air, and another, and then a much harsher hack of a cough that sounded too hard to have come out of such a small woman.

Asta knocked neatly on the door and entered without waiting for a call of permission from Riella.

In the far corner of the bed she was huddled, blankets up to her ears and hair strewn over her sticky and sweaty face. Her cheeks and forehead were a rosy pink, contrasting shockingly with the violet semi-circles painted beneath her eyes. Her eyes could barely hold themselves half-open, the lids fluttering with obvious exhaustion.

Asta didn’t bother to ask her what was wrong. It was written on the young woman’s skin in sweat and eye-bags. Instead she leant over her, extending her hand and pressing it to her forehead as softly as she could manage. She was practically volcanic. At the feel of her cool hand, Riella’s brows pulled together and a soft whine escaped her lips, not that she seemed to truly notice Asta’s presence. She was far too drowsy.

Asta stayed far beyond an appropriate amount of time, stroking Riella’s face tenderly and murmuring soothing words. Or at least repeating expressions she had heard more soft-hearted women speak to the sick and wounded before. Polite talk, sweet nothings and honeyed words were not any of Asta’s methods of communication. She did not approve of excessive flattery or verbal trickery. This little lady needed comfort, though. There was a sense of a debt being owed at the back of Asta’s mind, too, as she remembered Riella’s intention to risk her life to fight for her… with a broom. Asta smiled to herself reflexively at the memory but managed to keep from chuckling. For one so small she held a fair amount of bravery, or perhaps simply foolish selflessness.

The servant girls delivered breakfast foods and then returned a few times with drinks, but Riella did not rise to so much as sniff the offerings. Asta was unsure of how aware the young woman even was of the comings and goings. Lifting the young woman’s body as gently as she was capable, she carefully tipped mouthfuls of water past Riella’s lips. At the very least, she needed to get water in her. It did not perk the little lady up as Asta had been hoping. After having managed to dribble a small cup’s worth of water into her, Asta allowed her to slump back to the bed. Even her drooping eyelids shone with sweat as she fought the fever that held her so tightly in its grasp.

Asta knew she needed to return to her post before someone of higher status than the servants noticed she was skulking about the young lady’s private quarters. Her place was on the other side of the door. Being fully aware of this fact did not ease her concern at leaving Riella to fight her sickness alone. With another stroke of her hand against the silk-thin skin of Riella’s burning forehead, Asta peeled herself from her bedside and took her position in the corridor outside.

Just past midday, the young lady’s owner flounced into the hallway that led to Riella’s quarters. He was flanked by two guards of his own household. They appeared as bored as Asta usually felt standing at Riella’s door for half a day at a time. Asta watched the lord approach but gave no greeting or expression as he did so. She had never used charm or socialisation to make connections in her line of work; although, she knew many did, she let her swordsmanship and physique speak for her.

“I trust my beloved hasn’t been causing you too much trouble?” Lord Montalli asked as he drew up in front of her. His face held a slightly teasing smile that Asta did not return.

“She has a fever, my lord,” she answered quietly. “She’s barely moved all day.”

“Ah, thank you for the forewarning, I think I’ll postpone my visit until the sickness has left her.” He turned to leave.

“You do not wish to check on her first?” The words slipped from Asta’s mouth before she could consider them.

The lord’s expression soured. “You are here to guard my future wife, not advise me on how to spend time with her.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Apology accepted,” he said dismissively. Asta held her tongue from correcting him, from giving him a verbal lashing and making it quite clear that the only person she apologises to is her mother. He continued, unaware of the fury brewing inside of her. “I can’t be catching some festering flu from her; I have duties to attend to.”

“Of course, sir,” she said tightly.

With dawdling guards in tow, he left quicker than he had arrived. Asta sighed quietly to herself as she watched him leave. It was an awful shame for such a sweet young woman to be wasted on such a bone-headed man.

With the knowledge that Lord Montalli would not be making another appearance to check in for some time, Asta took the opportunity to slip back inside the room and plant herself at Riella’s side for the rest of the day.