Page 144 of Once Upon a Fable

I’m sorry.

Tiredness made my arms shake like useless twigs. All my strength had been used. I had nothing left after dragging him here. I’d left scuff marks on the marble tiles as my sapling stretcher hauled in garden debris as well as a nameless man, mumbling under his breath and reliving nightmares in his ill-gotten sleep.

I’d chosen the library because it was the largest, closest room of the house. I’d pushed aside a well-worn chair that sat like a throne in the center. I’d rolled him off the stretcher and traipsed back out the door to leave the rope and branches outside.

I never rested. Never stopped.

The deeper the night turned, the more he sank into hallucinations.

He thrashed as I gently washed his hair. He trembled as I cleaned his body. He keened a noise that broke my heart as I gently pulled off his slacks and wiped away the dirt on his thighs.

His breath was shallow and fast as I touched him with nothing but tenderness and care, his back snapping straight as I applied another bandage to his shin that’d been left raw and oozing from his tumble down the cliff.

I wished I could reach into his mind and silence whatever was tormenting him. I wished I could wake him up so he didn’t have to be their prisoner.

But no matter what I did, he stayed stubbornly asleep.

Exhaustion hung off my eyelashes as I glanced at the clock again and found it was now two a.m., not midnight.

I had no recollection of the past two hours.

I wanted nothing more than to lie beside him in the nest I’d created with cushions from the couch, cosy blankets from the games room, and pillows from a few beds upstairs.

I didn’t have the strength to drag him up the stairs. There was no bedroom on this level. Therefore, I’d compromised. I’d made a bed on the plushest carpet I could find, made him comfortable and clean, wrapped him in a soft blanket, and sat vigil while he suffered things I couldn’t heal.

“Maliki,no—” He jolted with a belly-clenching groan.

Frazzled tears rolled down my cheeks as I cupped his cheek. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

He threw himself away from my touch, rolling in the blankets, knocking me off balance.

I swayed and crashed to my elbows. My bleary stare and bone-weary body begged to lie down. My eyes closed even as unwelcome sleep suffocated me.

No!

Wrenching my eyelids up, I forced myself to focus.

You can’t sleep.

Not while he’s dreaming.

He’d fallen still again, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, his hands clenching as if he held invisible weapons.

My heart fisted with pity.

I’d done everything I could for his physical healing, but his mental health seemed entirely unfixable.

“Anon, it’s time to wake up, okay? Open your eyes, and you’ll see you’re alright. Nothing will hurt you here.” I shook his shoulder for the billionth time, my words slurring with tiredness. “You need to eat and drink.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I fought off a throbbing headache. “If you have a concussion, you shouldn’t be sleeping so much.”

I had no way to refresh myself on symptoms of a concussion. No Google or doctor websites, but it seemed as if he was displaying most of them.

Excessive fatigue.

Inability to be roused.

Emotional outbursts.

As if to prove my point that he’d sustained a significant head injury, he mumbled again, rolled to the side, then vomited.