Equilibrium

Chapter Ten

We stay in Genika for only a few days--the rest of the week. Nehemiah decides that we will switch off where we live, between Genika and Chautin, until a halfway-house can be made. We create a routine without really meaning to. I wake up around 2 AM, when Nehemiah usually has his nightmares. I will sit with him against the wall until I fall asleep, and then I always wake up in his bed, and I always have to untangle myself from his grasp. It always wakes him up, and then we meet for breakfast after changing into day clothes. From breakfast to lunch, we discuss political and economical things. From lunch to dinner, we are walking around the villages, getting the Genicians used to seeing Nehemiah. There are no incidents.

Yet.

I don’t get the chance to speak to Elias before we leave on Sunday. On Sundays, we are up before the sun and we usually make it to Chautin by breakfast time--nine o'clock. I arrange to have Elias meet us the following day. When Nehemiah inquires about it, I cannot answer. I don’t know what is wrong.

We have not created a routine in Chautin yet. I am curious to see how this plays out. I want more, but I am afraid of more. I feel guilty, a little, because Daniel is dead and I sleep next to the enemy. We have not kissed or anything remotely...intimate...but it still has a sense of intimacy to it.

In Chautin, Nehemiah is a bit more serious. I am more relaxed, oddly enough. His little sister, Grace, is an absolutely adorable seven year old. She is usually with her mother, who is kind, but a little distant. She is taking this better than my mother, though. My mother usually refuses to come out of her room when I am there, and especially when Nehemiah is near.

I don't see much of Nehemiah all day and when I do see him, he is heading to our room to retire. I think my room might be finished, but I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell. He looks exhausted. There are no guards in sight, no one to witness anything that transpires between us two, so I simply nod at him in acknowledgement.

"Emma? I am not so busy tomorrow. Would you like to have a tour of the village?" He inquires and I halt in surprise, turning to face him. I’ve been sitting at the window seat for nearly a hour now. I scan his face for anything, but for once he is impassive.

"Of course. After lunch?" I offer helpfully and he nods.

"Tomorrow, then. Oh, and your friend arrived a short while ago." His expression is inscrutable. My friend--he must mean Elias. He takes a seat at his desk and I elect to stretch my legs--and go hunt down the curtains I saw my first time here. Elias will find me when he can. I am rounding the corner when I hear it--a soft cry. It roots me in place for just one second, one moment, before I realize which direction it came from.

Behind me, where I left Nehemiah. I whirl around, skirts flying, and I sprint back down the hallway. My heart is pounding--if I lose Nehemiah, I lose the peace. That is what I tell myself when fear takes root in my chest. That is why I am so afraid. Of course it is. When I round the corner, I see him. He is holding his own, but the assassin is Genician. He has to be, and Genician blades are poisoned. I've been inoculated against the poison. It will kill Nehemiah in an instant. It might just make me mildly sick. Besides--if the attacker is from Genika, then he won't hurt me. Their swords clash, sounding so loud to me. How can no one else hear it? Why has no one else come running?

I hope I am right. I hold my breath, duck, and plant myself between the two, raising my arms to shield my face. The blade cuts into my forearm and I feel the bite of the poison, but it will not kill me. The assassin stops, as predicted, and they turn to vanish down the hallway I have just come from. Nehemiah dropped his arm immediately when I stepped in front of him, so as not to harm me, but now he raises it as footsteps pound down the hallway. He reaches forward and wraps an arm around my waist, gently spinning me to stand in front of me. I can only see the back of him, but he relaxes and his blade lowers.

"Dawes! There is an assassin in the castle. Emmaline is hurt. He went that way." Nehemiah points with his sword and one of the many guards takes two men with him and the three disappear.

"My King, we need to move you out of the hallway. It is too open." Someone tells Nehemiah and I clutch my arm close to my chest. It hurts. It won't kill me, but it will hurt for a very long time. I let out a soft sound, unwillingly, and Nehemiah wraps his arms around me, shielding me against an invisible source. He is warm, and I know that he values the peace as much as I do. I am safe here, tucked against his chest.

He is the one in danger.

"Someone send for a doctor immediately." He insists as we are herded into his room. He grabs a clean shirt from the wooden chest at the foot of his bed and he presses it to the cut, attempting to stop the copious amount of blood pouring from my arm. I bite my lip, hard, and I taste the coppery tang of blood in my mouth.

"Why were there no guards in the hallway? Emmaline is not safe here, and apparently neither am I." Nehemiah snaps, and his anger surprises me. “Bar the door.”

"We were switching shifts, sir. The assassin must have known our schedule. He has been here before." One of the guards tells him--I can't tell which one. This pain is consuming me.

“Nem--” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut. I don’t want them to be here I just want it to be us. I don’t want them to see it if I cry or pass out. He turns back to me, brushing my hair from my face gently.

“That was incredibly brave of you, Emma. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” He whispers, brushing his lips against my forehead. I’m not sure who he is doing for--me, or the benefit of the guards. I force myself to harden my heart against the action, to not soften and lean into him.

The door opens and everyone jumps forward, but it is only Elias. Even Nehemiah is relaxed around Elias. I have never seen him look this angry, but as soon as his eyes fall on me he softens.

"Give her this!" He tosses a corked vial to Nehemiah, who hesitates. "It is the antidote. The poison won't kill her, but it probably hurts worse than you can imagine. I'm surprised that she is not screaming." His bitter tone encourages Nehemiah and he uncorks it. I don't think that I can move to take it, but somehow, through the fire, my muscles work and I down the murky substance. It tastes about as bad as it looked, but the fire recedes from my body and, after a few mere seconds, it dissolves completely. Now I am left with the simpler pain of having a gash in my arm, which is still bleeding profusely. I don't think that any veins were hit, but I am going to need to be sewn up.

"What the hell were you thinking, Emmaline? He could have killed you!" Nehemiah's voice is strained.

"I thought the assassin was after you." Elias nearly snaps, and Nehemiah looks away from me for a moment. I can see his pulse at his neck, light and fast, like a bird's, and I can feel it through his chest and even his thumb as it brushes the hair from my forehead. He is nearly frantic. His hands keep smoothing over my hair, my face, as if he needs to assure himself that I am here.

"He was. Emmaline jumped between the two of us and stopped him. When he realized what he had done, he ran." Nehemiah explains and I bury my head against his chest before anyone can see me cry. It still hurts.

"Everyone out! Into the hallway! Guard the doors!" Ezra barks as the doctor arrives, and they clear out. Elias tosses once glance over at me--I can see him in my periphery--before he takes Ezra by the shoulder and forces him out. The stitches hurt, but I feel better once the bleeding has stopped and there is a white, sterile bandage on my arm. Nehemiah refuses to leave my side, even as I start to fall asleep. The doctor forces herbs down my throat before I can sleep and warmth spreads through my whole body. I curl in towards Nehemiah and bury my head in his chest again.

“I’m sorry, Emmaline. I should have been more careful.” He murmurs, tucking me under his chin. There is something here, something in this moment, that makes me afraid to answer or even move. I don’t want him to remember what he said. I don’t want him to remember who I am. I just want to be this girl, the one who saved his life, the one who he is worried about.

Maybe it is the medicine, but maybe it is just hope that has me reaching for him, pressing closer to him, as I drift away.