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Ransom turned over and opened his eyes. The soft morning sun made the white of his canvas tent look warm and yellow. A breeze came through the tent flap comfortably. He sank his shoulder into the cot.
“You like her, don’t you?”
The sound of Eliot’s voice suddenly made the world not so beautiful.
Of all people to share a tent with, why him? But Ransom turned over and glanced at Eliot, who was turning his dagger over and over in his hand mechanically, lost in thought.
“How is Annabeth?” Eliot asked.
“Why would you care?”
Eliot was silent.
Ransom decided to prod him. “Why would you care? You are the one who twisted her on the rack.”
Eliot broke from his mute reverie. “I was only doing what I had to do to prove myself. A man isn’t a man if he can lower himself to torturing a girl. Twisting it hard was the only way I knew how to get her off quickly—jerking her hard, instead of one degree at a time for hours and hours. I wanted her to remain the same. Not...” He shuddered. “I didn’t have another choice.”
Eliot swung his legs over the edge of his cot and rubbed his jaw. “That prince has a mean punch.”
“They’ve been friends since they were children.”
“Hmm. Makes sense. Keep your eyes on her, Ransom. She is going to need you.”
“What?” said Ransom, sitting upright. Something about Eliot’s words startled him.
“She is going to need you.”
“And what makes you say that?”
Eliot shrugged. “Just a gut feeling. Don’t like it, but it’s there all the same.” He pulled on his doublet and left.
Ransom eased back into his cot. He hadn’t realized until last night as he was closing his eyes that he hadn’t slept in over a day. Weariness still pulled at him, but Eliot’s words disturbed him. He had to go see Annabeth. Hopefully it wasn’t too early.
In s few minutes he was standing outside the girls’ tent, asking for entrance. He was admitted by Lady Christina, who still looked anxious and flustered by her position as nurse.
“How is she doing?”
Christina shrugged one shoulder. “The physician said she is doing as well as can be expected, but she has that same pained look, and she is still so pale. I am worried, Ransom.”
Ransom took a seat by the cot and touched Annabeth’s hand. It was warm but not feverish. Her body was fighting, but not in a struggle that would mount into any danger.
At his touch, Annabeth’s eyes fluttered open and she blinked several times.
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, Beth.”
“It’s all right. I think I was already awake. What is going on?”
Ransom smiled. “I am not really sure, and I am not really sure I care. I know they have plans to attack Raburn, but nothing more.”
“Have you seen my father?”
“Not this morning.”
Annabeth nodded. He could tell by the look in her eyes she was still very weary. He couldn’t blame her. She had let go of her strength in the dungeon so everything would just slip away from her. Now she was ready and willing to fight for her life, but it would take time to recover.
But it was more than just that. After all of these months, she longed to have her father by her side—to see him, to be near him always—and Ransom couldn’t blame her one bit. He would do anything to be with his family again, but that was never to be. They were gone, all gone. Ransom let his mind numb. He didn’t want to think about that.
“Do you want me to go see if I can find him?”
“He’ll come when he is able,” whispered Annabeth, trying to hide the pain in her voice. “Maybe I will rest just a little bit more
Unexpectedly, Ransom found Annabeth slipping her hand into his, holding it loosely. He looked at her, his eyes asking questions.
Annabeth smiled, sighed, and closed her eyes.