by Nova Rose
* * *
Nelyn gently lifted Jarown’s head to allow him to sip water. His skin burned and the welts oozed relentlessly.
“Here,” said Rybnik as he handed her a cloth.
“Thank you,” she said. “You should not be here.”
“Illness does not worry me,” replied Rybnik. “Besides, my place is by my lady.”
Nelyn glanced over to Jenel who had also caught the disease. The sickness was spreading rapidly. Soon the number of sick would outweigh those that were well.
“You will need this then.” Nelyn handed the cloth back to Rybnik.
“Keep it.” Rybnik went over to Jenel kneeling by her side. He pulled his cloak off and wrapped it around the princess with great care.
“Nelyn,” croaked Jarown.
“Father,” cried Nelyn, “You’re awake.”
Jarown coughed violently. Blood spotted his lips. Gently, Nelyn wiped them. “I’m not going anywhere before I have a chance to say good-bye,” said Jarown.
“No, do not speak like that. You will get well again I promise.”
Jarown smiled weakly.
“I am so sorry,” said Nelyn. “I should not have treated you so badly. Of course I forgive you. How can I not?”
“Your father would be proud of you.”
“You are my father,” Nelyn choked back tears.
“I am merely the man that raised you,” said Jarown, feebly.
“That makes you my father,” replied Nelyn. “You are the only one I’ve known. You taught me the sword. You cared for me when I was ill. You took me in when no one else would. I no longer care about your past deeds, only about todays. You will get well, and together we will bring honor to Belyndril.”
Jarown cupped his hands around Nelyn’s face. “You look so like your mother. And you have your father’s heart.”
“I know.”
“I love you, Nelyn, and am proud to call you my daughter.” Jarown’s hands dropped to his side.
Instantly, Nelyn placed her cheek by his mouth. He still breathed. She sat up relieved, but saddened at the prospect that he might not live for much longer.