Free Immortal by Pati Nagle

my face.
    â€œI am so sorry, Len. So sorry.”
    â€œNo,” I croaked. I really could have used that glass of water.
    He leaned closer, speaking softly. “She did not mean to hurt you.”
    I heard another voice, Madera’s. Couldn’t tell what he was saying. Might have been that foreign language. Caeran looked at him, then back at me. He squeezed my shoulder, stood up and walked away. Madera took his place.
    The healer laid a hand on my brow and another on my breastbone, very impersonal, though gentle. His hands were incredibly warm—so warm I felt drowsy. Pleasant enough, but I wanted Caeran. I fought to stay awake, but the warmth and the shock I’d taken were too much. I slid under the rising blanket of darkness.
    The next time I woke, it was morning. Sunlight slanted in past the partly-open door. I saw cotton-clad legs, someone sitting in a chair by the bed. Looked up hoping for Caeran, and was disappointed to find Madera’s blue eyes watching me.
    â€œAre you feeling better?”
    â€œDunno.”
    My throat was parched. I sat up carefully. My head swam a little but settled down after a second. I looked at the nightstand and saw, to my delight, a full glass of water. I gulped it down and gave a sigh of relief.
    â€œYes, better. Thank you.”
    He smiled. “You are welcome. There is bread and fruit in the kitchen if you are hungry.”
    â€œSounds good.” I eased my feet to the floor and bent down to put on my shoes, which someone must have removed for me. “Don’t suppose you have any coffee?”
    â€œNo, but I could make tea.”
    â€œTea’s good.”
    I needed some caffeine. The format didn’t matter so much.
    Madera led the way through the courtyard to the kitchen, pausing to hold the door open for me. Sunshine lit up the flagstones and glinted from the fountain. A rosebush I hadn’t noticed had two cream-colored blooms on it, even this far north and this late in the fall. There was no sign of broken glass or disarranged furniture.
    I followed Madera across to the kitchen, which was warm and smelled like fresh baking. My stomach instantly demanded to sample the product. While Madera filled a kettle, I hacked a slice from a still-warm loaf that was sitting on the table, smeared butter on it, and gobbled it down. It tasted fantastic. I cut another slice, trying a dab of some jam on it this time. Apricot. Heavenly.
    Madera must not have spent the whole night watching me. Not if he’d baked bread.
    Hah. My brilliant powers of deduction were still in order.
    Of course, someone else could have baked the bread.
    I glanced at the sink, where Madera was washing some pears. Two small plates in the dish drain. Madera’s and Caeran’s? Nathrin’s and Mirali’s?
    What had happened last night, anyway? Being the one that got knocked on my ass, I felt like I had a right to know, but instinct kept me from asking Madera. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to be forthcoming.
    If anyone would explain, it would be Caeran. I looked out the window at the fountain, wishing he’d show up.
    â€œMirali will need to stay here for a few days.”
    I glanced at Madera but he had his back to me, standing at the counter slicing the pears. I picked up the bread knife and started on thirds.
    â€œIt was very kind of you to bring her and her friends all this way,” he continued. “She asked me to tell you she is grateful.”
    â€œThat so?”
    Could have fooled me. She’d looked angry, last night.
    â€œShe—was quite ill. Is still quite ill. She knows she is fortunate to have had your help.”
    Madera brought a plate of sliced pears to the table and sat across from me. I bit into a piece of pear and its sweet, juicy softness exploded in my awareness. Either my taste buds were hyperenthusiastic this morning, or I was hungrier than I’d thought.
    â€œThese are wonderful!” I helped myself to