But…
She remembered Cassian saying last time that he couldn’t hear anything while unconscious.
That meant he’d had no awareness.
Right. Inspiration, born of sheer desperation, struck. She bit her lip and flatly denied it. “I don’t know.”
She dared a quick glance at him. He was watching her, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
Summoning every ounce of audacity, she ventured, “Could… could it have been Bran?”
Cassian was stunned.
Elowen adopted an expression of understanding. “Though it was rather rude of him, I’m sure he meant well, my lord. Perhaps it’s best not to question him. It might… make things awkward for everyone.”
Cassian studied her for a long moment. “You’re exceptionally… considerate.”
Elowen forced a laugh. “Just… just doing my duty.”
She gathered her courage. “My lord, more water?” She gestured to his cup. “Shall I fetch another?”
Cassian didn’t call her bluff. He simply nodded.
“Then, may I have your cup?”
As she spoke, Elowen took two steps closer.
He was sitting up, holding the cup in his lap, not offering it up. She had to lean in to take it.
Cassian’s gaze settled on her face.
The proximity granted him a clearer view.
Her skin, usually pale and translucent like a peeled hard-boiled egg, was now flushed. A warm, thick blush, like the glow of dawn upon snow.
Quite lovely.
So he suddenly asked, “When I first woke, I thought I heard you say something about… bursting…”
Elowen’s fingers twitched.
Cassian’s lips quirked in a faint, teasing smile as he looked at her. “What did you mean?”
Elowen’s shame returned tenfold. She flushed from head to toe, resembling a lobster tossed onto a fire.
Cassian’s smile grew more pronounced.
Even prettier.
This time, Elowen’s mind went completely blank. No plausible explanation surfaced. She fumbled for words, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
Cassian enjoyed the sight for a satisfyingly long moment before finally showing mercy. “Perhaps I misheard.”
He placed the cup in her hand, his voice softening, gentle as one speaking to a child. “Go on, fetch some more water.”
Elowen felt as if she’d been granted a pardon. She snatched the cup and practically fled.
While pouring the water, she pressed the cool back of her hand against her cheek, willing her temperature to drop.
Returning to the bedside with the fresh cup, her eyes lingered on the washbasin on the floor.
He still hadn’t been washed…
“Have them bring hot water. I’m going to bathe,” Cassian said.
“Alright,” Elowen agreed, relieved.
She remembered something else. “Shall I send for the royal physician?”
Cassian shook his head. “Not yet.”
Elowen frowned with concern. “What if you fall unconscious again?”
Cassian raised a brow. “That depends. Are you available?”
“Me…?”
“If you are free, you could assist me. If you’re too busy, I suppose I’ll have to manage alone. If you hear a crash, then you can call for help.”
He made it sound so pitiful.
Elowen’s heart softened. She bit her lip. “Perhaps Bran and I could both assist you?”
Cassian replied, unhurried, “Didn’t you just say that Bran was the one who secretly lifted my robe? It seems he harbors inappropriate thoughts. No way I’m letting him help with the bath. Guess it’ll be just you. Sorry to make you handle it alone.”
Elowen froze. I brought this upon myself. I have no one to blame.
“Go on,” Cassian urged gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Tell Bran to prepare hot water.”
Elowen murmured a quiet assent and walked out slowly.
Bran had been waiting just outside. He hurried forward at the sight of her. “Your Grace, is the washing done? I’ll fetch the basin-“
Elowen stopped him. “Prepare some hot water, please. Cassian’s awake.”
Bran stared, then his face broke into a wide, disbelieving grin. “Awake?”
Elowen nodded. “He says he wants a bath.”
“Wonderful! Wonderful!” Overjoyed, Bran rushed off to carry out the order.
Soon, he returned with servants hauling bucket after bucket of steaming water.
They poured it into the large oak tub in the adjoining bathing chamber. Beaming, Bran darted to the bedside to speak with Cassian.
Elowen sat to the side, idly watching the commotion, when she heard Cassian’s voice call, “My love.”
It took her a moment to register.
Then came the sound of wooden wheels rolling across the floor. Someone crooked a finger and rapped it, not too gently, on the table beside her.
Elowen finally looked up. “…My lord? Is something wrong?”
Cassian sat in a wheelchair, his gaze level with hers. “I called for you. You didn’t hear.”
Belatedly, Elowen realized those calls of “my love” had been for her.
“It’s my first time being called that by someone else. I’m not used to it yet. My apologies.”
She meant it sincerely, which made Cassian’s slight frown all the more puzzling.
“By someone else,” he repeated, the words deliberate and slow.
“Ah…”
Elowen began to explain, but Cassian let out a soft, humorless laugh. His deep eyes were unreadable.
The sound sent a shiver down Elowen’s spine. She lowered her gaze to the wheelchair beneath him.
In her past life, Cassian had woken years later. When she’d seen him, he was in a wheelchair, his face haggard with pain.
Now, he had awoken much earlier.
But why was he still confined to a chair?
“Let’s go,” Cassian said.
Bran pushed the wheelchair toward the bathing chamber.
Elowen twisted her fingers together, then followed.
The bath chamber was a small, square space. A large wooden tub stood in the center, now filled with steaming water that misted the air.
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