She should be dead.
That much she knew. Instead, she lie, rather comfortably, beneath the cotton covers of a well made-up bed.
Veleria absentmindedly pawed at her chest while she surveyed an otherwise empty room. She felt it then, an unmistakable indent along her sternum. She looked down, noting the jagged lines of the pale scar wrought upon her by a quick, yet brutal blade. A wound that deep could not have healed so quickly.
As she gathered her thoughts and tried to make sense of the impossible, the door opened. Preceded by a short knock, a man peered into the room.
“Heavens, you’re awake.”
The lines on his forehead deepened as he appeared to fumble with whatever he held in his hands. She let him work it out. The man, a rather tall and well built gentleman presumably somewhere in his forties, entered the room and placed a brass cup on the nightstand. She looked at it, then at him. The fading twilight did him no favors—while undoubtedly handsome to some, the man before her had myriad lines marring his eyes and forehead revealing both age and stress
“It’s, uh, water.” He said, sitting beside her. There was a chair there. She figured he had been taking care of her. “You haven’t had anything to eat or drink in at least a week.”
Veleria stared at him.
“A week?” She asked, surprised to find her voice.
“More or less.”
“A week, more or less? Have I been here longer than a week?”
“I haven’t kept track, on account of wondering if you were even alive, let alone conscience.”
Veleria sat back. It was a lot to take in. Then, she pointed to her chest.
“You a sorcerer, man?”
The man shook his head.
“It’s Adrian, by the by.” He told her.
“Veleria,” she said, politely. “And you didn’t heal me?”
“No. I found you like that.”
Veleria stared at him for a time. She blinked once, looked away, then took the brass cup and palmed it. That is ridiculous, she thought plainly. It wasn’t as if she had forgotten where the scar had come from. In fact, the source had done more than scar her body.
“Mad,” she claimed. “Did you see it happen?”
“See what happen?”
“That sonofabitch stab me?”
Adrian’s eyes darkened, “No.”
“He doesn’t leave a job unfinished.”
Considering this, Adrian leaned back in his seat.
“What are you trying to say?” He asked.
“I’m saying I should be dead.” Veleria placed the cup back on the nightstand, untouched. “Could I have some time alone?”
Adrian gave her a cool, hard stare. When she said nothing more, he rose from his seat and left the room.
Once he was outside, Adrian mentally kicked himself.
More or less a week? They were four days short of a month that she had been sleeping peacefully in his spare bed. How could he explain that to her? It hardly made sense even to him.