“Miranda’s running things down there, but she could probably use as much help as she can get. Let’s head to the infirmary, Misha,” he said, grabbing Misha by the shoulders and spinning her around before pushing her from the room. “You make sure you tell the king and his doctors what’s going on properly, old man. See you later!”
Nel clicked his tongue in disappointment as Misha was swept away. Ryne was right. Now that they had made contact with the royalty of Redford, as representatives of the People of the Forest, there were some stipulations to their relationship that needed to be made explicit. As an elder, the responsibility of seeing that all done naturally fell to Nel.
Oh well. I’m sure I’ll have a chance to speak with her later.
She was the daughter of a woman who’d once had excellent future prospects, but her love for an outsider had stolen her away from their village. Though they had confirmed Misha’s existence prior, according to the laws of their people, they weren’t allowed to make contact with someone who had abandoned the village. As much as it pained them, they couldn’t have become involved with her. But now the situation had changed entirely.
After watching the two leave until they stepped out of sight, Nel gave a sigh and turned back to the room of men waiting behind him. “All right. I suppose I should start from the beginning, King of Redford.” His gaze on the king was hard, with nothing of the kindly old man who’d spoken to Misha.
The way he measured Ryan with cold eyes was something the king was quite familiar with. The look snapped him out of the confusion that had settled over the room, and all at once he ceased to be Ryan; he was the king.
Nel faintly grinned once he saw Ryan clearly switch to his politician mode.
“Let’s move somewhere more comfortable, sir elder of the People of the Forest.”
The servants standing silent and motionless by the walls snapped into motion, moving on ahead of them. As Ryan and Nel started walking to follow them, the crowd swiftly parted ways to let them pass.
As they left, Conan gave some quick instructions to the other doctors, then hurried to follow. As the head of the royal physicians, he was the highest-ranking medical official in the kingdom. It would be perfectly natural for him to be involved in the conversation to come. He didn’t know what he would actually be able to accomplish in this discussion, but the premonition that he would learn something new in these talks filled him with a sense of elation.
Perhaps an improper response when so many lives hang in the balance...but no matter.
Conan’s steps were light and energetic as he made his way after them.
In a small room in the infirmary, Lalaya let out a deep breath, trying to expel some of the excessive heat she was feeling. The medicine was helping; however, it hadn’t entirely suppressed the illness. She still felt like there was a roiling pool of magma deep inside her.
She smiled and shrugged it off when others were around, but the truth was her weaker constitution, even as improved as it had been lately, made recovery harder on her than most. The fatigue was horrible. If she lost focus for a moment, she’d collapse at the knees. Sheer force of will was the only thing left keeping her standing.
“I’ve never been more thankful for how big these dresses are...”
Her heavy dresses made even walking around an ordeal, each step sapping ever more energy from her. She honestly hated the excessive bulk and how even standing exhausted her, but there was one upside: The outfit hid the trembling of her knees.
Trying to cover for the fact her incessant coughing had ruined her throat to the point even drinking water was painful, she slowly worked her way through the medicine she was provided while forcing a smile to her face.
“I’m glad this stuff isn’t just for show. Misha’s medicine has been a huge help.”
Her pride as royalty was the last tenuous strand tying her to the world of the waking. She couldn’t show any weakness or shame in front of the common people, terrified as they were. She had to be the picture of elegance and pride. Otherwise, there was no reason for her to be here at all, she told herself.
Whenever she was starting to reach her limit, pain growing beyond what her smiles would be able to hide, she returned to this small room that had been provided for her to take a breather. She took some medicine, drank more water, and put the smile right back on.
If she were to be honest, she’d rather just fall over and pass out. She wanted to scream and cry about how much it hurt, how she was afraid of dying, but if she fell to that temptation, she’d really be nothing but a useless parasite.
“Royalty live because of the love the people have for them. So make sure you love them back, okay? Love the people the same way you love us.”
That lesson from her mother had stuck with Lalaya to this day. She wasn’t entirely sure she really understood what her mother had meant, but if she could help the people feel at ease just by standing among them and offering a helping hand, she wanted to do it as much as possible.
“Okay, I’m fine now. Let’s go to the next room.” Draining the last drop from her cup, she gave the ever worried maid Carrie a smile as she rose back on trembling feet.
Though she most certainly would have been better served staying in her room and resting, the moment Lalaya knew she had contracted the Red Eye plague, she instructed her maids that she wished to go out.
Her brother and his officials were working around the clock, barely sleeping in their efforts to handle the plague. With no ability to contribute to any kind of government affairs, she couldn’t think of a single thing she could do in her position as royalty to help.
But she was already sick, so she didn’t need to worry about touching other people who were sick. It felt only natural that she copy what her mother had done.