* * *
Rybnik watched Jenel as she slept fitfully. Sweat lined her face as her fever burned. Gently, he placed a cool, damp rag on the welts that covered her arm. One burst. He wiped the pus away.
Memories flooded his brain. A picture of Janine smiled at him before turning into an irate King Slyamal issuing his banishment. Sorrowfully, he remembered the lonely trek through Knot’s Pass as he sought sanctuary in Belyndril.
“Still here?”
Pulled from his musings, Rybnik glanced at Jenel who had just woken up. “Always.”
“You should rest,” said Jenel.
“I’m not the one who is ill.”
Jenel eyed him a moment. She tried to smile, but a series of violent coughs racked her body.
Rybnik pushed a cup of water against her lips forcing her to drink.
“I’m so tired,” whispered Jenel.
“You should sleep.”
“I knew you’d be here when I woke. If only my father knew how you’ve changed.”
“You shouldn’t trust me so blindly,” said Rybnik.
“You have that faraway look again.” Jenel brushed his check with the tips of her fingers.
“Sleep.” Gingerly, Rybnik pulled the blanket to Jenel’s chin to ward of the cold breeze. He looked out at all of the sick people who now littered the area with a mixture of emotions reeling within him.