The fever left Riella in waves, dredging her consciousness back to the surface more and more with every few hours that passed. The sweaty cocoon that had entrapped her slowly unfurling to deposit her back into reality. She was still unwell when she opened her eyes successfully for the first time in two days and two nights. Her muscles ached, her throat was raw, and her head was pulsing.

In her dozing state she had been visited by strange dreams. Dreams of her family, of her friends from the city, of Asta. The Asta of her dreams was gentle. She stroked her face and murmured kind words to her. There was little similarity in the temperament of the Asta of her dreams and the stern personality of the real Asta who stood steadfast outside her door. But Riella had enjoyed the fantasy all the same, not that she would ever admit this aloud. The soft touch of a hard person felt special, like a wolf nuzzling you in the style of a dog. Or perhaps Asta could be more appropriately compared to a lion with her blonde cropped hair. Riella wondered how it would feel to run her fingers through it.

The doctor that visited her once she had awoken fully advised the sickness had most likely been brought on as an after-effect of her hysteria when she witnessed the fighting and death in the hallway  outside of her room. The death of Mister Auguste had wracked her with immense guilt, in particular.

Riella did not disagree with that diagnosis but wondered how much impact her lack of fresh air and sunlight was having on her health in general. Her previously sun-kissed skin had been leeched of colour and her body was far more fatigued these days. She had left the grey stone walls of Ravenskeep once since arriving, when Lord Montalli took her for a walk in the gardens. The thin crack that she regarded as a window only allowed a minute chunk of natural light to enter, although she did her best to sit in its path when she could. Otherwise, she relied heavily on candles to allow her to read small text or see the opposite end of the room.

She raised her concerns with the doctor, who promised to take up the subject with Lord Montalli. She was then given a tonic and advised to take plenty of water and rest. The doctor gave her strict instructions not to exert herself and not to indulge in rich foods or partake in any alcoholic beverages. Riella nodded obediently and was left once again to sit alone in her quarters. She had never tried true drink before; her father was not the type to be found in taverns and that influence had rubbed off on Riella and her sisters. She also did not know how she could possibly exert herself in her cage-like quarters. The additional problem she faced was, although she felt drained from fighting the fever, she was not tired in the sleepy sense. She could not bear to lie about aimlessly any longer.

Riella scrubbed her face briskly, the cold water in her washroom was refreshing after stewing in her bed for days. She needed a full bath, though. She wrapped a blanket around her sweat-crusted body and pulled her tangled hair back, tying it at the nape of her neck with a silk tie. Appearing slightly better than she had a few minutes before, she knocked gently on her side of the door.

Miss Asta’s voice responded almost instantly. “Riella? Is that you knocking?”

“Yes,” Riella said as loudly as she could, her voice cracked from lack of use.

The handle turned and the door opened. Asta looked her up and down with concerned eyes and raised brows.

“How’re you feeling, little lady?” she asked, dropping her body to the side to lean into the room from the door.

“Better,” Riella whispered.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I need a bath, though, desperately,” said Riella with slight embarrassment. “Do you know if there will be any servants on their way soon?”

“They came by fairly recently to refill your water jugs so I doubt they will be back until lunchtime.”

“Oh, okay.” Riella fiddled with the blanket awkwardly under Asta’s sharp gaze. She could not read the taller woman’s expression at all, not even a hint to what was going on behind her scarred face. “Co-could you ask them for me when they do come back?”

“I will ask them now.” Asta pushed off from the door frame. “Keep this door closed and don’t speak to anyone.”

Riella stepped forward, startled, she had not intended to imply she wanted Asta running around on her behalf. She was not making demands, she would never. “Y-you don’t need to do that, I can wait.”

“It’s fine,” Asta said with a ghost of small. “I’ll be back.” She stepped backwards into the hallways but kept her eyes on Riella’s face.

Riella followed instinctively, taking a single step out of her quarters. “Please don’t put yourself out on my account i-”

Miss Asta raised her hand suddenly and Riella flinched back with eyes pinched closed. The pad of a single finger pressed against her forehead. “I said it’s fine. Take yourself back to bed for now.” Riella opened her eyes and Asta pressed her back into the room with only her finger. Riella flushed but nodded obediently. Once she was far enough inside, Asta shut the door between them.

The servants were far more efficient than usual, rushing back and forth with buckets of near-boiling water as though they were being put through drills by an army general. Riella bumbled about her room, unsure of how to contribute or react. Asta stood at the door looking as intimidating as always.

The bath was magnificent. Nothing was any different within the tub to any previous bath that had been prepared for her, but her body had needed it so much more. Emerging from her washroom amidst billowing steam, dressed in a simple light dress and with hair tightly braided, had her feeling completely revitalised in comparison to how she had awoken. While she had marinated in the hot water peppered with oils and petals, her bedding had been stripped and swapped for fresh sheets, blankets and pillows. Her small window was open, and the room only faintly smelled of sickness still.

A short knock on the door warned her of Miss Asta’s entrance only a few seconds before she was in the room.

“I thought you would appreciate a forewarning that your lord will be making an appearance tomorrow morning,” she announced.

Riella said, “Oh?” Her cheeks warming at the thought that her betrothed would be visiting out of concern for her health.

“The good doctor recommended more fresh air so he will be taking you for a stroll of the gardens.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

“You miss the outdoors?”

“Greatly.”

Asta rocked forward on her heels to murmur into Riella’s ear, “Perhaps I will sneak you out with me at some point in the future, then.”

Riella felt her blush burning her cheeks and the tips of her ears as she floundered for a response. Asta stepped back with a restrained smile and left swiftly. Riella hovered near the door for a few moments afterwards, catching her breath.

The next morning she was washed, dressed and had her hair styled by the time the sky was faintly turning back to blue after the sunrise. And then she waited. And waited. And when it was approaching midday, her betrothed finally arrived.

He had a tall and blank-faced man either side of him, but they did not acknowledge her. Lord Montalli took her hand and kissed the back lightly. Riella breathed a greeting with her head tilted down and allowed him to sweep her out of the room by her elbow. She could feel Miss Asta’s eyes locked onto her back as they left the corridor.

In the gardens they walked leisurely, taking in the colours, the crisp scents, and the sensation of each other’s fingers interlocking and curling into one another. When they reached a decorative hedge maze with only two layers, they separated from the guards escorting them. The two men took sentry positions at the entrance and Riella followed a step behind Lord Montalli and he navigated the tall hedges and finely trimmed topiaries. In the centre there sat a pair of stone benches and a collection of rose bushes, overflowing with stunning blooms. The romanticism was not lost on Riella; she appreciated the gesture immensely. Her sisters always bemoaned men and their inability to be passionate or thoughtful, but it seemed she had found one of the few who could appreciate beauty and intimacy. Perhaps the floral odours and magnificent architecture of the gardens were clouding her head…

The pair dropped onto one of the stone benches together, only just enough space for them to perch side by side. Riella breathed deeply, enjoying the cool air immensely. She felt like a caged bird that could finally spread its wings, all creaks and cracks and twinges. But pleased for the stretch all the same.

Lord Montalli’s hand rested in her lap. The weight barely rumpled her skirts, but it pressed heavily on her nerves. She could feel something approaching, something she had not experienced before but somehow could sense its arrival. He turned his head, bringing it close to hers. His nose brushed her cheek as he aligned their faces. Riella held her breath involuntarily. His lips met hers and they were warm. She held still, afraid to move or breathe and inadvertently ruin the moment. Her mind seemed to simultaneously focus on everything around them at once, the rose bushes, the high hedges, the clear air brushing over her skin, the cold stone of the bench beneath them pressing into her backside.

After a few silent moments, he pulled back and smiled serenely down at her. She smiled back, her face burning, before dropping her eyes to where his hand remained in her lap.