Indefinitely.
She brings Fiona's hand to her lips and gives it a brief kiss—a gesture unknown to her until one day, weeks ago, when Fiona had done it to Nadira's own hand as they had been falling asleep. This woman has taught and shown her so many things. Nadira never wants to stop learning from or about her. She wants to uncover every one of Fiona's secrets, her quirks. She wants to watch Fiona read in the dim light of the study for hours at a time, watch Fiona's eyes light up as she learns an impossible number of things from those old books. She wants Fiona's laugh and voice and words to be the new soundtrack of her life. Forever.
"I love you," Nadira says to her wife for the first time, hoping that maybe Fiona really can hear her despite the deep, never-ending slumber that plagues her.
Chapter 21
It happens the next evening, after the sun has dipped below the horizon just enough to cast a rosy hue into the dimmed room. Nadira, unsuspecting and eyes drooping with lack of sleep, almost violently jolts upright as she feels the feather light kiss of fingers brush the palm of her hand.
As Fiona struggles to open her eyes, an impossibly wide grin blossoms across Nadira's face. She had been so terrified for days; the awakening, though Fiona not completely healed, is enough to cause a lightness ripple through Nadira's chest and tingle throughout her limbs. Relief and elation flood her senses and it's all she can do to not wrap Fiona in her arms and never let her go.
"Hey," she croaks instead, her voice strained with emotion as she smoothes hair from Fiona's pallid face. "About time you woke up."
Fiona weakly tries to grin. It seems like it has been ages since she's seen Nadira, and Fiona has missed her impossibly so.
"You," she has to clear her throat. "You're here?"
Nadira has to ignore the way her chest aches as she realizes Fiona really is in disbelief that, most likely for the first time in her life, someone actually cares enough to be there by her side.
She brings a cup of water to Fiona's cracked lips. "I came back as soon as I heard."
Fiona's eyes briefly flutter close as the cool liquid runs down her burning throat. She swallows painfully before speaking, "How long was I…?"
"Almost a week," Nadira explains. She's unable to hide her smile despite her concern at Fiona's labored breaths. It's just so relieving to finally have her Fiona back again. "I have some medicine if you need it."
"I'm okay," Fiona rasps. The last thing she wants is to fall back into a medicated induced stupor that would leave her mind even fuzzier than it already is. She grips onto Nadira's hand tighter as if it's the only thing anchoring her to the bed. "What happened to me?"
Cognizant of Fiona's fragile state, Nadira decides to evade as long as possible. She lightly dabs away the moisture from Fiona's lips. "What do you think it was, nohealani?"
Fiona's lips turn up at the utterance of the special name Nadira still sometimes uses. "I'd rather not venture a guess."
"I knew you'd say that," Nadira softly replies. It strikes her at that moment, with Fiona looking at her in a sleepy haze, how much she really knows about the other woman, and how much Fiona knows about her. She never imagined someone get as close to her as she's willingly allowed Fiona to do.
She loves it.
Fiona scrutinizes Nadira's face for long moments. Finally she says, "You know, don't you? What it was that made me ill?"
"Yeah," Nadira tentatively admits, her fingers briefly stilling in Fiona's hair.
"And?" Fiona prods.
There's a pause as their eyes lock. Fiona waits for the answer and Nadira debates on whether or not to give it. She's unsure if Fiona should know how close to death she really was. But this is Fiona, the woman that trusts her more than anything, and Nadira can't even think about lying to her.
"Poison," Nadira finally whispers. "At least we think so."
Fiona's eyes close and she takes deep breath, recalling things she'd learned in years past. All the books and scripts and lectures she's heard and read replay in her mind. Just when Nadira feels like she's fallen asleep again, Fiona speaks. "Myoaplacia."
Nadira's brow wrinkles. "What?"
"That's the plant the poison was derived from," Fiona replies, her eyes fluttering open. " Myoaplacia."
"You're sure?"
"Based on the symptoms I displayed before the sedative, yes," Fiona slowly explains due to the exhaustion that's seemingly settled into every crevice of her body. "It's generally found in the Concord region of Faraha, though it can be shipped over long distances due to its slowly diminishing potency."
Nadira feigns a smile though there's a preemptive dread churning in her gut. "I knew all that reading would come in handy," she teases. "Maybe I really should learn how."
"My offer to teach you still stands," Fiona softly grins.
"I'll take you up on it as soon as you're better," Nadira promises.
Fiona winces as she tries to readjust her position on the bed and concern floods Nadira once again. She almost lost the woman she loves, the woman she wants to spend the rest of her life with. There's nothing Nadira won't do to make sure she's comfortable.
Nadira moves to sit on the edge of the bed as close to Fiona as she dares. "Are you hungry? Hurting? Do you feel like going to the bathhouse?"
Fiona's still pallid skin is sticky from cold sweats that had wrought her body and inadequate sponge baths Nadira had lovingly given her. Her now dull hair is matted and tangled beyond belief from neglect. She feels absolutely repulsive. There's no way she can imagine how she must look.
"It would feel wonderful to be clean again," she sighs wistfully.
"It would also smell better in here," Nadira counters. At Fiona's pointed look, she jokingly holds up her hands. "Kidding. It doesn't smell that bad."
Before Nadira, Fiona would've taken a statement like that to heart and blushed in embarrassment. Instead, she attempts to roll her eyes. "Your humor is lacking."
"Well I haven't used it in a while," Nadira makes an half-hearted attempt. "I was too busy worrying about a certain someone."
But Fiona glances away instead of smiling like Nadira had hoped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to burden you."
"No, no. Don't do that," Nadira immediately interrupts. "It was just a joke. A bad joke. It's what I do when I'm scared and I'm still worried about you and I…I'm just so happy that you're better. No more stunts like this, alright? I'm not sure I could handle it again."
"It was hardly a stunt," Fiona defensively retorts with seemingly all the energy she has left. Her face instantly softens, her eyes slightly water. "But I would very much like for this to not happen again either. I'm not sure I would physically be able to handle such a strenuous event twice."
Nadira's eyes roam the length of Fiona's weakened body. When their eyes lock, chills erupt on Fiona's arms from the ferocity that's settled in the obsidian depths of Nadira's eyes, the ferocity that's etched into every inch of Nadira's being.
"I'll find who did this to you, Fiona," Nadira says, her voice thick and strong and gruff. "They won't get away with it. I swear they won't. I will not let them."
Fiona doesn't know how Nadira is going to take care of it and, truth be told, she's not even sure she wants to know. But she does know that she's grateful for it. Wars and battles had been started over the most trivial things in the history of their world, but she has never thought she would ever potentially be the cause of one. She has never thought that she, though beautiful and noble as she is, would ever be the reason someone vowed revenge and put everything on the line to ensure her safety.
But here's Nadira, looking at Fiona with a fierce fury carved in her gaze, doing just that. And suddenly Fiona realizes that grateful doesn't even begin to explain how she feels.
Nevertheless, she flounders for the right words—she'll look back on this moment and blame the combination of drugs in her system—and whispers out a simple "thank you" anyway.
Nadira gets it. She briefly nods her head in acknowledgement, of both the spoken and uns
poken Fiona couldn't utter, and then shifts to slowly help Fiona to an upright position.
Fiona hesitates. "Wait. Can you…?"
Nadira freezes. Her eyes scan Fiona for any signs of discomfort. "What's wrong?"
"No, it's nothing," Fiona reassures with a slight wave of her hand. Her eyes settle on anywhere but Nadira's face as she speaks, "I simply…I would like for you…Could you possibly—"
"Fiona," Nadira interrupts in exasperated amusement. "Sometime today, please."
"Sorry," Fiona scrunches her nose. Her eyes then land on her fidgeting fingers and stay there for the duration of her explanation. "I wasn't coddled much as a child. Never, really. There was no warmth or cosseting in my life after I was capable of taking care of myself, not even during periods of sickness or distress. Mother was always too busy to comfort me and my father was too detached to care. Often I was left in the hands whichever handmaiden was assigned to me for the week. So I…I don't know, perhaps I missed my chance for being comforted in that way but I—"
"But you want me to hold you?" Nadira interrupts. If she hadn't, she's sure Fiona would've gone on for hours without ever really getting to her point. She grins at Fiona's slightly embarrassed nod and the way her cheeks turn an endearing shade of pink. "I can do that. I've been told I'm quite the expert."
"I shall be the judge of that," Fiona teasingly responds as she rolls to her side.
Nadira climbs into the bed as gently as she can and pulls the warm fur blanket back around them both to keep the chill from her wife's nude form. Fiona safely tucks her head underneath Nadira's chin she her face is pressed against the bare skin of Nadira's throat.
"I apologize for my state of uncleanliness," she mumbles against the skin of Nadira's neck.
"Don't. It's fine. I—" Nadira pauses and pulls Fiona tighter against her body. Everywhere their skin touches sets her own on fire; their heartbeats synch and their breathing slows to an equal cadence only the deeply entwined can achieve. She presses her lips against the crown of Fiona's hair. "I love you, Fiona. I'll take you any way I can."
There's a pause and then the sound of small, muffled sniffles fill the air. Nadira, more than slightly confused, leans back just enough to see Fiona's face. "What's wrong?"
"I'm scared," Fiona whispers. Her eyes shimmer a glassy green as a tear slowly slips out and rolls down her cheek. " I don't want you to leave me here alone again. I know it's too much to ask, but I don't. Please don't."
"Shh," Nadira soothes, using her fingers to lightly brush away the dampness from her lover's face. "Don't be scared. I'm not going to leave you, all right? I shouldn't have done it before. It's too dangerous for you here. I won't make the same mistake twice. Especially not one that almost caused me to lose you."
Fiona shakes her head imperceptibly. "Don't make promises you don't intend to keep."
"I mean it, Fiona," Nadira insists. "I promise on my very life."
And from the sincerity in Nadira's voice, how it softens the way it does only when directed towards her wife, Fiona knows it to be true and her worries are instantly quelled.
Sniffling, she pulls closer into Nadira's embrace. She lets the comfort of Nadira's warmth and smell and touch lull her towards another slumber.
"Nadira?"
Nadira, still awake and vowing to be sentry over Fiona's sleep, grins at the way Fiona's voice is sleepily slurred.
"Yeah?"
"I love you too."
Chapter 22
Almost effortless, Nadira carries Fiona to the private bathhouse located on the castle grounds. Black marble pillars frame the arched entrance, and two armed guards pull open the heavy doors upon their approach. Steam envelops them as soon as they step inside, and the elaborate, multi-colored mosaics underfoot shine with built-up condensation.
Nadira gently sets Fiona on her feet. "You okay?"
Though her eyes clearly display her exhaustion, her soft smile belies it. It feels so wonderful to be here with Nadira and out of the confines of silken sheets and heavy furs. "Much better than okay."
With that, Nadira proceeds with pushing the pale pink, silken dress from Fiona's lightly freckled shoulders. Her calloused hands trail each spot of newly revealed flesh until the garment is pooled on the floor around Fiona's feet.
The recent illness is made apparent through the pallor of Fiona's skin and the almost-protruding rib bones along her sides. Nadira's eyes skim up from bare feet, to chill-covered legs, past now apparent hipbones, across still-full breasts and prominent collarbones, to land on the untouched beauty of her wife's face.
Fiona instantly flushes, and she tries not to fidget under the scrutiny. "Nadira…"
"No. It's not…" Nadira shakes her head. "It's not like that."
Fiona raises her eyebrow in teasing challenge. "Then what is it like?"
"I don't know," Nadira replies with a shrug. "I just like being able to look at you."
Fiona's face softens. "The intimacy?"
"The…" Nadira answers, realization dawning on her features. This is so new to her, something she's never had with anyone, that it's taken her by complete surprise. "Yeah. I like that."
The corners of Fiona's lips turn up. "I like it too."
Responding with only a smile, Nadira then takes off her own clothes, quickly, as the chills form on her body, and steps into the warm water made to look azure by the tiles on the bottom. Once in the large bath, she holds her hand out for Fiona to take.
"Thank you," Fiona replies, holding her wife's hand as she cascades down the slippery stairs into waist-deep water.
"You don't have to thank me," Nadira says, pulling Fiona's back flush against the skin of her own stomach. Her thumbs trace idle circles around the flesh of Fiona's navel. "I do things because I want to. Because I love you."
"And I like relaying my appreciation for those things."
"I know. But I think we're past the point of being polite, don't you?" Nadira leans down to kiss Fiona's bare shoulder before whispering in her ear. "Lean back for me."
Supporting Fiona by an arm under her back, Nadira washes her pale hair more affectionately than anything Fiona has ever known, until the knots are gone and it resembles its usual luster. Then, with more reverence and gentility that she thought she possessed, Nadira, stealing kisses every so often, works the oil across Fiona's skin until all remnants of sickness are washed away and she's left smelling like a bouquet of spring-time florals.
After toweling each other off, they slowly make their way down the elaborately twisted hallways to their room. Though once in the bedchamber, Fiona notices a man, tall and stocky and the color of melted butter, waiting for them beside the fireplace.
Fiona instantly takes a step back. This is their room, their private space, and no one has ever been allowed inside without invitation.
But instead of concern, Nadira barely holds off a laugh. She walks to him and claps her hand on his shoulder before turning to Fiona. "You said you liked the sweet rolls, so I brought the next best thing."
Incredulously, Fiona's eyes narrow. "You abducted a baker?"
"Abducted is hardly the word I would use," Nadira retorts.
"No abducting. Amadi bring me here for safe keeping," he attempts to say in broken Kaelan. He bows towards Fiona as lowly as he can. "Very pleasure to meet you, Enzana. Gorat at your duties."
A warm smile emerges on Fiona's face. Just from his demeanor and welcoming eyes, she already knows she's going to like him. "Thank you, Gorat."
Nadira slightly squeezes his shoulder, and he takes it as his cue. With another smile and bow, he says, "My pleasure will be making you food at the sunrise, Enzana."
"I look forward to it," Fiona replies. She watches him leave the room before looking to Nadira. Fiona shakes her head, though smiling, in disbelief. "I can't believe you did that."
"He was the best cook in Zathura. He'll be good for us," Nadira explains. "And bringing him here saved his life. It's a win-win."
The linens had been changed whil
e they were gone, and Fiona sighs as she settles into the downy freshness. "You're sweeter than you give yourself credit for, Nadira."
"Stop that," Nadira half-heartedly admonishes. She sits on the bed beside Fiona and, with thinly veiled concern, pulls the blankets around her wife. "Still tired?"
"It's to be expected for a while," Fiona softly placates, placing her hand in Nadira's upturned one. "I'll be back to my optimal strength soon. You'll see."
"Are you—"
A rapping against the open door interrupts them. Fiona's brow scrunches as yet another man, bowing, enters the room like he owns it before standing by the foot of the bed.
He smiles, just on that side of too brightly. "It's wonderful to finally see you awake, Enzana."
Without particularly meaning to, Fiona scrutinizes him. He's older than them both, but that doesn't take away from his aesthetically pleasing features. He's on the taller side, but somehow looks small compared to the larger than life whirlwind that is Nadira. Confidence radiates from him, too, but he's almost too confident in the way he stands there with a smile that lacks the welcoming friendliness of Gorat's. However, oddly enough, Nadira doesn't seem a bit perturbed by his attitude.
"Lianis," Nadira explains as she rises from the bed. "Supposedly the best doctor in this part of the city."
"That I am." He smiles, both parts smug and proud, and Fiona hesitantly returns a small one.
Nadira bends to affectionately kiss Fiona's forehead. "I have to write Franz about plans for their return. You'll be okay for a bit?"
"Yes," Fiona says, nodding. Not only does she trust Nadira's judgment, but only a fool would try to harm her under Nadira's own roof. "Go. Just promise—"
"I'll be back," Nadira assures, and makes sure not to break eye contact until she walks out the door.
Almost immediately, an awkward silence fills the room, with Lianis looking down at her as she lies against the stacks of pillows, and she returning the gaze until, finally, clearing her throat. "I must thank you. I'm sure it was no easy task nursing me back to health."
"You are right about that," he agrees, chuckling a little too loudly. "But Aleesi helped a great deal."
The Best Deceptions: A Lesbian Medieval Fantasy (Deception Series Book 1) Page 10