Uriel Wayne Dana Alfred
After her lecture, Uriel—certain something was wrong with her, and having taken the medicine the physician prescribed before sleeping a while—dragged herself upright.
The headache had ebbed. The lethargy drifting through her whole body had not.
Already...
Four-forty in the afternoon. She had thought she'd only shut her eyes for a moment, and she had slept six hours.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes... thank you."
She offered the physician that much gratitude for asking after her, then climbed down from the sickbed and made her way to the fourth floor of the main building—her own office. There she sank onto the sofa, pressed a hand to her brow, and steadied her breath.
Knock, knock.
How long she sat like that, she couldn't have said. At the sound of knocking she opened her eyes and turned her head.
Knock, knock.
Who would come looking for her? The question lingered only a moment. The conversation she'd had that morning with Count Asran's son rose faintly to mind, and Uriel got up and opened the door.
The latch clicked. Sure enough, Gerard stood there in neat clothes, a faint smile on his lips.
"Professor Uriel. Would you care to have dinner with me...?"
She said nothing.
Sick as I am, starving myself will only make it worse.
"Fine... let's go."
She did not refuse him. She accepted.
They left the Imperial Academy and walked the rainy streets of the capital, and the heavy, low mood seemed to ease a little. She was especially grateful that Gerard didn't fill the silence with needless talk. Even if he had asked her this and that, she had no strength left to answer.
"I would like to treat you to a meal here. Would that be acceptable?"
At last he stopped before a fairly well-known restaurant, looked quietly at her for the first time, and spoke.
"It's fine. And I'll say this now... I have no appetite, so I may only pick at it enough to make whoever's paying feel sorry."
"You are unwell. It cannot be helped."
Uriel was silent.
Did I ever tell him I was sick?
"You are giving off the air of a patient so plainly that it would be strange not to notice."
"Observant."
...Unlike that man.
She made the comparison against her will as she stepped inside. Once they were seated, he held a sheet of paper out to her without preamble.
"What's this?"
"This morning I told you I own a decent residence in the capital. Do you recall? This is the address. I have also prepared clothing and money in the bedroom."
She said nothing. The paper crumpled faintly in her grip as she looked at him.
"If this seems like pity, I apologize. Childish as it may be, I judged it the surest way to earn your favor, given your circumstances."
"Honesty is nice, but..."
"Is there a problem?"
"No. Forget it... I'll only take the clothes and the money in the bedroom. I'm not your fiancée yet, and I'm not your wife. I don't want tongues wagging about me already. I'll pay you back later, so don't worry."
"My father will not refuse."
"I know."
"It is only a matter of sooner or later. If there is perhaps someone you—"
"There isn't."
Uriel shook her head and watched the rain trickle down the window.
"Gerard."
"Yes."
"Don't get impatient. Like you said, nothing's going to change. I'll become your wife and give Aslan County its heir... and these breasts you keep glancing at while pretending not to—when the time comes, you'll get to grope them all you want."
"Forgive the discourtesy..."
"I like that you don't drown me in excuses. Anyway, now's the only time I get to live on my own... so. Something like that."
"I will respect your wishes, Professor."
At his answer a faint smile touched her eyes, and she carefully ate the appetizer that soon arrived.
The meal lasted some forty minutes. Afterward Uriel and Gerard left the restaurant together and walked the streets, bound for his residence in the capital.
"Will you be staying at an inn for the time being?"
"No... I'll stay in my office as I am. Commute from an inn and someone is bound to see. I don't feel like scratching my own pride. Someone's probably already wondering why my carriage isn't in the park."
"Even after we are married... please remain in your post as long as you wish. If there is something you want to do, I will not oppose you. I will support you."
At that, Uriel swept her hair back behind her ear.
Until now, if she wanted something, she could see it through by her own will. After marriage, she would need her husband's permission. The difference struck her anew, and she let out a sigh.
"Yes... that's welcome to hear, I'll give you that."
Before long their steps stopped. She went into the mansion they had reached and gathered the money laid out in the bedroom, and the clothes prepared for her.
"Then... I should get going. Are you heading back to the dormitory too?"
"No. I have already obtained a pass to leave the grounds, so since I am out, I mean to sleep here alone."
She caught the brief stress he laid on alone.
She said nothing.
The house wore a tidy look even without attendants. No—more precisely, he had likely sent the attendants away for a while. She had enough of an eye to see that, and she smiled, soft and thin.
"You don't look it, but you've been seeing your share of women."
He said nothing.
"Don't play pitiful to stir up some fellow feeling. Maternal instinct isn't proportional to breast size. And I have no intention of sleeping here with you tonight."
She left the bedroom with a tart little smile, and Gerard turned to watch her go.
He had half a mind to circle that waist with his hand and stop her where she stood... then gave the thought up cleanly. Once she had read the intent beneath his manners, there was no point in being greedy.
"Have a good night. Please recover soon."
"Thanks."
Uriel departed. And the faint trace of her scent left lingering in the room was, as ever, still bewitching.
She swallowed hard.
Back in her office on the fourth floor of the main building, Uriel sat on the sofa, drew a blanket over herself, and took the medicine the physician had prescribed. Outside, a breeze heavy with rain had been cooling her, so she hadn't noticed; once she stepped into the comparatively warm interior, she could feel the fever.
Was my body always this weak...
She sighed, lay back on the sofa, and closed her eyes. It was only seven, but her ailing body wanted sleep as soon as possible, wanted to store up what strength it could. She shut her eyes, and before long she had sunk into a deep sleep.
When she woke again, it was 1:22 in the morning.
"Ugh... nn..."
A thin groan of pain escaped her. Blanket and clothes alike were soaked through with cold sweat, and the chill of it made her drag her upper body upright with an effort. Her whole body was a lump of fire. Why did sound sleep only make her worse?
"Ah... ugh..."
Move her head even a little, and the headache knotted her brow. The cling of soaked cloth pricked her skin like needles each time it touched her. Her insides turned as well, nausea rising as if she might vomit at any moment. Uriel clutched at her hair and breathed in ragged pulls.
What had to be admitted would have to be admitted. This was not something she could endure alone until it kindly went away.
So she raised a brilliant flame that filled the room with light. It roared up. Before long, someone on patrol—Imperial Knight Order or Mage Corps—would grow curious and come up. She had an excuse ready, of a sort. Finals were nearly upon them; she had been preparing the schedule, dozed off, and woken to this. They would have little they could say.
"Ha..."
The flame swelled larger still. Each time it did, her chilled body welcomed the warmth, and yet the soaring fever made that same warmth a misery. She wanted to be cool and warm at once. Unable to satisfy either half of that contradictory craving, Uriel groaned and tossed.
A latch clicked. Someone took hold of her office door and turned it. The door burst open.
Beyond it, through a blurred gaze, Uriel looked at a man.
"Finals aren't far off, and I fell asleep while I was working... I'm not well... I'm sorry, but could you take me to the physician?"
No answer. Cold sweat kept pouring off her, and still there was nothing. Was he standing there savoring the sight of her in this state? Irritation flooded her voice as she spoke to the man who would not move from the doorway.
"What are you doing...! Don't just stand there looking—"
Every word rang through her skull.
"Uriel."
She flinched. A voice far too familiar, right at her ear. Fever had smeared her focus; she narrowed her eyes and forced it to settle, and only then did she understand that the man in front of her was Perzen.
"Why..."
Why are you standing in front of me.
"You look a wreck."
"Get out..."
Of all people—the last one she wanted to see her like this.
"Count it a mercy that I was the one who found you. The knight order and the Mage Corps both rather enjoy their gossip. Had they seen you in this state, they would have been talking it over among themselves for quite some time."
"You being right in front of me is the worst of all...!"
Pain throbbed. Raising her voice set the headache flaring, and Uriel pressed a hand to her brow.
"Do you even know the state you are in, saying that. Uriel."
Frowning, Perzen dropped his gaze toward her legs.
...And what about my state.
A hollow breath of a laugh left her, and she looked down as well.
"Ah..."
She was bleeding. Her monthly blood.
"D-don't look..."
At the sudden onset of her courses she drew her legs together and snatched up the blanket she had set aside, covering her lower body in a rush.
"Get out. Get out...!"
A sob leaked into her voice. Every last piece of it—why was the world so desperate to grind her down?
"Don't touch me. Don't put your hands on my body..."
The words came out of her like a struggle, and Perzen ignored them. He came close and laid his large hand against her forehead. Her temperature had left the range of normal far behind.
"Don't touch me..."
Why was his hand so needlessly cold? The cool of it made her suddenly want to press her cheek into his palm, and she held the want down.
"Stubborn."
"You bastard."
He said nothing.
"You rotten bastard..."
He said nothing.
"Whose fault is this. It's all your fault..."
There was more blood than her usual courses. Perhaps that was why the anemia had come over her. Uriel's head spun. The world seemed to wheel around and around. Her head dropped, strengthless, and as if venting what was left of her anger she struck the firm chest of the man standing so close.
"Put it... all away..."
Then her face went bloodless, and Uriel lost consciousness.
Perzen gathered her into his arms with both hands, and for a long while he was silent.