Equilibrium

Chapter Eleven

I wake with a pounding headache. My mouth is dry and everything is spinning. Arms are locked around me and Nehemiah’s warm breath wafts across my skin. I try to turn, but I can’t see him so I roll over. It puts us face-to-face, our noses inches apart. His eyes flutter open, bright in the fading light of day.

“How do you feel?” He asks, sounding suspiciously awake.

“Like I’ve been baked in an oven and then left in the bath.” I croak. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I suck in another deep breath, as deep as I can manage, and I let it out in a rush. I feel tired and achy.

“Do you want anything? Are you hungry? Are you in pain?” He props himself up, putting more distance between us. I close my eyes. The moment is gone.

“Water, no, yes.” I answer in succession. He pulls away to take a glass from the nightstand.

“This should fix both issues.” He helps me sit up to drink it. The dizziness I feel is overwhelming and I am relieved to lie back against the pillows again.

“Aren’t you busy?” I ask, but he doesn’t acknowledge the question. “My head is spinning,”” I add, trying to track his movements as he paces.

“Not now.” He doesn’t elaborate and I don’t ask him to. I feel loose. I might even be dreaming already. I could be asleep, I could be awake. I am not sure.

“You scared me.” Nehemiah murmurs, brushing my hair with his fingers absently. I am not sure that he realizes he is doing it. If he is doing it.

“You scared me,” I echo, only half teasing. “I heard you, and I came, and I-I just didn’t want them to hurt you.” I force my eyes back open. He is standing next to the bed now. I reach for him with both arms and he takes a small half-step closer. I aim for his hand, but get his wrist instead. It’s no matter--I can tug on his wrist just as easily. I’m too weak to really force him closer, but when I try to wiggle to make room he gets the memo. He crawls back onto the bed next to me and only when he is resting back against the pillows do I relax.

“Am I asleep?” I ask, but if he responds I don’t catch it. “It feels like I am dreaming.” My mind is as thick as mud and I can hardly keep my eyes open. He says something else, but I don’t catch it.

I am already asleep.

When I wake again, it is because Nehemiah is slowly moving off of the bed, trying not to disturb me, but his whole body is trembling. Before he can get too far away, I reach for his arm and grab it, gently. He startles a little, glancing back at me. I can only see the glint off of his eyes through the darkness. He is breathing heavily, his whole body shaking. I tug, trying to pull him closer, but I am still weak and my movements are sluggish. It does not matter. I am awake and he comes to me.

“I’m sorry--” he begins, but I shush him. My exhaustion makes me bold and I pull him closer until he gives in, leaning into me. His shoulders are broad and strong and I can barely get my arms around him but I do.

“What are you so afraid of?” I ask, my words slurring a little in the thickness of my sleep. He does not answer, but he doesn’t pull away either. The tension in him slowly thins out until he is relaxed, and then I realize that he has fallen back asleep.

He probably won’t even remember this in the morning.

And he doesn’t appear to. He wakes me up sometime around ten with breakfast, eating with me on the bed and talking about his schedule for the day. Nehemiah is not allowed to leave the palace during the week, and even in the palace, he is restricted. I know that it bothers him. His window overlooks the marketplace and when I enter our room after lunch he is sitting by the window.

"Do you have somewhere you ought to be?" I ask lightly and his head turns, slightly, to tell me that he has heard me.

"I promised one of the vendors that I would sample one of his new recipes, but it is something that can wait." He smiles softly, although it is not a smile that is directed to me. I want to help--I feel bad that he is cooped up here because one of my subjects has attacked him.

Our subjects, I correct myself, but feel bad nonetheless.

"Well...I could go get a sample and bring it here for you." I offer, and now he gives me his undivided attention. My offer surprises him. I am still tired and sore and hurt, but I can manage at least this. I can see in his eyes that this offer means more to him than he will let on. I am beginning to pick up on his moods. When his eyes stay in one spot for more than a minute, he is usually pensive. Distracted. Sometimes bored. When he cannot sit still, he is anxious or nervous. When he paces silently, with hard eyes, he is angry. I have gotten nearly used to his touch. In public, he does simple things--tucking my hair out of my face, taking my hand, taking my arm, or simply laying his hand on my shoulder.

Nothing more, nothing less. I have not brought it up to him, but his touch hasn’t ever been something that hurt. Something I didn’t want.

"You would not know where to go." He smiles, offering me a way out, but I am determined. I want to do this for him.

"I can have Mason take me." I shrug, naming the first guard that comes to mind. Nehemiah studies me for a moment before he stands, walking to his bedside table. He takes a small red pouch and he tosses it to me.

"The man you need to see in the marketplace is named Enoch. Mason will know where to go." He is still studying me as I leave, and I wonder why the name sounds familiar.

I find Mason near Leighla's room, entertaining Nehemiah's only other sister--Grace, the seven year old.

"Excuse me, Mason, but I was wondering if you could take me to a man name Enoch? Nehemiah said that you might know who he is?" I inquire, and Grace brightens at the sight of me.

"I know Enoch, Emmaline." She says breathlessly, absolutely enthralled by my presence. I grin and crouch before her.

"Could you maybe take me to Enoch?" I ask, and Mason steps forward, as if to stop her, but Grace is already nodding enthusiastically. She brushes her long dark hair out of her face, emerald eyes shining.

"Yeah! We could stop and get our hair done by Silvia! She is really rather nice. She makes the most beautiful clips." Grace grabs my hand and begins to pull me towards the stairs, where we will be able to descend to the front doors. While she is excited, she is still careful about which arm she grabs and how hard she pulls. I even catch her giving me a fleeting look of concern. It floods my heart with warmth.

"I can accompany you, in case the little princess grows weary." Mason is lying about why he is coming, but I do not pry. If he feels that she will be unsafe, then I won't argue his presence. It might just be his duty for the day to follow her around, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it isn’t the case.