Chapter Text
Rey had to stay in bed for three days while her ankle healed. Confined to her apartments, this was an opportunity for her to improve the decor, with the assistance of Rose and Paige, whom the challenge seemed to amuse greatly. With the rainy season in full swing, dampness and cold were insidiously creeping into the castle. To insulate her room, they selected three tapestries on the theme of Theseus and Ariadne from the trousseau Queen Gertrude had given Rey for her wedding.
The first tapestry depicts the meeting between the princess Ariadne and the hero Theseus, on a beach on the island of Crete. Theseus had disembarked from a ship, chained with nine other young men and ten young women, brought to be sacrificed to the Minotaur. As Ariadne watched from her palanquin, the young Cretan princess swooned over the prisoner's male beauty.
In the second tapestry, Ariadne was handing Theseus a ball of thread through the bars that closed the entrance to the labyrinth. In the background, in a dark corner of the labyrinth, we could make out the menacing silhouette and horned head of the Minotaur. At the opposite end, an ellipse showed Ariadne and Theseus, fleeing to a boat after defeating the monster.
And finally, in the final scene, the ultimate betrayal: poor Ariadne, abandoned, alone and distraught on a wild island, while in the distance the ship carrying Theseus sailed away. This was the naive princess's reward for giving herself body and soul to a handsome man, to the point of betraying her family and her homeland to follow him.
Seeing the theme and the three paintings depicted, Rey had been tempted to have them thrown into the fire. It was hard not to see in the image of poor Ariadne, weeping alone on the shore, her auburn hair falling scattered over her shoulders, a final, ironic and cruel jibe from Queen Gertrude to her former devoted servant.
But after careful consideration, the young Countess decided that this was a formidable lesson, one she would do well not to forget. She even insisted that the tapestry of Ariadne abandoned be hung opposite her bed, so that it would be the first image she saw when she got up each morning, and the last every evening before she fell asleep.
At Rey's request, a scriptorium table was set up in her room near the window, along with shelves for her books and medicine jars. Although the containers were empty for the time being, she intended to fill them with whatever she could gather on her next excursions outside. For her bad experience had in no way dissuaded her from venturing out.
Her husband had only visited her once, during her convalescence, to tell her that Hux had had the bodies of the two brigands taken away and buried - at least the remains that the vultures hadn't found to their liking. At present, men-at-arms were scouring the countryside for any rogues still lurking in the vicinity.
As he stood by her bed, where Rey lay in her shirt, her loose hair falling over her shoulders and covering her chest like a shawl, her injured ankle resting on a small velvet cushion, she noticed his embarrassment and dismay. It was as if being in her room and seeing her in such a scruffy outfit made him deeply uncomfortable. As soon as he'd given her the news and inquired about her condition, he'd stormed out of the room as if the Devil were after him.
Rey had found this behavior intriguing but had initially put it down to guilt at not having been able to prevent her from being assaulted. Since the night they'd spent together in the Hermitage, when he'd been extremely attentive and considerate; once back at the castle, he'd once again adopted an aloof attitude towards his wife. Then she remembered how, in the morning, after a whole night pressed together, she had felt a thick, hard object against her buttocks. Thinking it was a piece of wood left on the bed, she'd wanted to grab it and throw it down the chimney. But as she closed her hand over it, and heard the indignant whimper of her bedfellow, she realized the extent of her mistake.
They had only exchanged a brief glance, the moment Ben had opened his eyes. Then her husband had jumped out of bed and rushed outside, claiming he had to satisfy a natural need. Rey remained alone for a moment, sitting on her bed with her cheeks burning. Then Ben had come back to tell her that the sky was clear and it was time to leave.
Now, doing the math, Rey realized that in the eight days they'd been officially married, four of them living under the same roof, her husband had so far never solicited her on an intimate level. And for the time being, their union had yet to be consummated. She was somewhat surprised by this, even if she had been relieved at first. Her meagre experience in the matter had shown her that men were generally more eager than patient about such things.
Suddenly, a realization struck her: Ben probably thought she was still a virgin.
The thought overwhelmed her. What was she supposed to do? Tell him the truth, be honest, as he'd been asking her since her arrival? Or keep him in the dark? Would he even notice if she said nothing?
Perhaps, before considering saying or doing anything, she should put out feelers.
Having a sprained ankle meant she didn't have to attend mass every morning. Although she was never reproached for it. However, in order to put Ben on her good side, she forced herself to go back once her foot had healed. She was careful to wear a less extravagant outfit, bordering on the monastic, so as not to offend him.
Throughout the ritual, she tried not to look up at the stained-glass window showing the wolf-man drinking Christ's blood. The image definitely made her uncomfortable. She wondered whose idea it was to display such a thing in a chapel.
At the end of mass, she took the host that the priest had placed in her hands and brought it to her mouth. But as she turned distractedly to Ben, she noticed that he, pretending to eat it, was actually tucking the consecrated morsel into his sleeve. This gesture, bordering on blasphemy, puzzled her. Especially coming from such a devout man.
At the breakfast table, Rey tried to look perky, to prove to him that she was fully recovered. She asked about her pear trees. Ben assured her that they had been delivered to the castle in good condition and were being stored under cover until someone decided where to plant them.
"I'd love to be able to go out in the mountains again. When do you think we could arrange that?"
"I thought that after our misadventure, you'd be in no hurry to set foot outside again."
"You don't know me very well, do you? I fear nothing more than confinement and inactivity. And now that I've recovered, I need to exercise."
"Reynella, locking you up is the last thing I want to do. But you should take it easy. The rainy season has started and the roads get really rough this time of year."
"So you want me to mope around until spring!"
Rey made a sulky face and crossed her arms in a rather immature attitude. Ben regarded her for a moment, with the look of a preceptor confused by his pupil, unsure whether to reprimand or console her.
"Rose and Paige will be going mushroom-picking soon, between downpours. If you feel like it, you can always go with them."
From the delighted smile on his wife's face, Ben knew he'd hit the nail on the head. He'd never imagined that a young girl brought up at court would be so excited by the idea of walking on damp, humus-covered ground and having to bend down to scrape the earth. He was emboldened to make her a proposal that had been on his mind for some time.
"If you're not afraid of getting your hands dirty, I might have another activity to suggest."
Once again, Rey was intrigued and wanted to question him, but he preferred to remain evasive until they left the table. After which, he gave her his arm and invited her to follow him to an area of the castle he wished to show her. Rey complied, torn between suspicion and curiosity. She felt even more wary when he led her up a spiral staircase to the very top of a tower. At each level, the air grew colder and more humid, the stones covered with moss and lichen. Clearly, this was an abandoned part of the castle, where no-one ever ventured.
On several occasions, Ben inquired about the condition of her ankle, asking if it was in any pain. If the climb was too much for her, they could always go back. That could wait until she was more fit. But with her curiosity and pride aroused, Rey wanted to see what he wanted to show her. Even though, as they climbed higher and higher, she began to wonder if this wasn't a trap: that he wasn't going to push her into the void, once they'd reached the very top; or throw her into a cold, damp dungeon, to starve to death; or worse! A cold, damp dungeon filled with the corpses of his former lovers. Like that horrible tale she'd been told as a child about a man with a blue beard...
Finally, the staircase came to a stop in front of a worm-eaten wooden door with a rusty lock. Ben reached into the key ring on his belt and pulled out a key in the same state as the lock. He had to force it into the cylinder and pull the bolt. The door resisted again when he had to push it open. There was a sinister creak from the hinges and a strong musty smell as the door finally gave way under the pressure of Ben's arms and hands.
Ben was the first to enter, and reached through the frame to invite his wife to follow him. Rey's hand trembled slightly as she placed it in her husband's broad, dry palm. If he noticed, he made no comment.
Entering the room, Rey found herself dazzled by a dim light. Looking up, she realized she was under a transparent dome, composed of a metal structure and large white stained-glass windows that let in the sunlight as it climbed towards its zenith. The floor of the room was entirely covered with black, greasy grass, and twisted shrubs, weeds and vines had taken over the place. A few birds flew in through the broken windows as the two intruders entered. Snakes slithered off to hide in the dark corners. Rey even thought he saw a squirrel climb up a tree, its crown brushing the glass ceiling, to take refuge in a hollow.
It was like a piece of primeval forest, kept out of time, which by some enchantment had been transported to this mountain, to the top of this tower.
"How could such a prodigy be possible?" Rey exclaimed, as she wandered cautiously among the roots and plants.
"Firstly, by the mad project of a man who was desperate to please his young wife, by giving her a garden that would remind her of her childhood estate, which she had left to marry him. Then, thanks to the skill and dedication of blacksmiths, master glassmakers and masons who worked tirelessly to bring this insane project to life. And finally, with all the love and passion this young lady had for plants and nature."
There was a wistful melancholy in his voice. Turning to him, Rey thought she detected sadness in his eyes. A little hesitantly, she dared to ask:
"What happened to the young lady?"
"She died. Like so many others before her, bringing twins into the world. After her death, this garden was abandoned. And everything about her was sealed off. And then, apart from her, no one was capable of taking care of this place. But maybe that could change. If you're interested in a challenge..."
He turned to her, emphasizing those last words. Rey didn't dare believe what she was hearing.
"You... You mean... You're offering me this place?"
Ben shrugged.
"Since I've been a terrible fiancé and husband up to now, I've got to find a way to make up for it. Admittedly, some would say it's just a gloomy room full of dust, vermin and weeds. But I thought maybe, since you seem to love plants and you're not afraid of getting dirt under your fingernails, you could give some soul back to this..."
He didn't have time to finish his sentence. For Rey had thrown herself around his neck and kissed him in the heat of her enthusiasm. Nothing languorous, just their mouths pressed together and their lips caressing each other. She could feel that his were soft, tasting of the warm milk and eggs he'd eaten for breakfast. The hairs on his moustache tickled her lightly. A warm current slid down her throat to her heart.
Then she realized it was the first time they'd kissed. Abruptly pulling away from him, she plunged her eyes into his, aghast at her own audacity. He hadn't pushed her away, of course. But his hands had wisely remained on her hips, more to steady himself than with the intention of caressing her. Although he'd instinctively bent down when she'd put her arms around his neck, she still had to stand on tiptoe to get their faces to meet. She felt herself blush.
"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't mean to be indecent."
He smiled indulgently.
"Don't be. This isn't inappropriate between spouses."
There was a moment's hesitation. Like a moment suspended in time. Rey hesitated. Was he inviting her to continue his kiss? Perhaps even to deepen it. She couldn't deny that part of her wanted it terribly. But another was waiting for more encouragement from him and worried that he didn't seem to want to take the plunge.
And then the moment stopped. It had only taken a second too long to turn Rey's elation into embarrassment. She slowly untied the arms she'd wrapped around his shoulders and stepped away from him, without him at any point trying to hold her back or draw her against him again. This disappointed her even more and made her pull away all the more.
Rey spent the next three weeks redesigning the indoor garden. All the snakes that had taken refuge in the room were captured, along with the rats and mice. The only thing left was the squirrel, which had made its nest in the trunk of the red-leaf maple - a survivor from the old plantations - which Rey was determined to keep as a tenant. She even tried to tame it, bringing it dried fruit, bread crusts and anything else it might like. She nicknamed it Beebee.
In the early days, the little rodent carefully kept a distance from the new mistress of the house, watching her carefully pull weeds and backfill the greenhouse from the branches of her tree. He would only go down to collect the food she had left him in a small corner once he was sure she was leaving. As the days went by, he grew bolder, observing her from lower and lower branches. Sometimes, the temptation was too strong, and he would cautiously approach her to try and snatch a couple of hazelnuts, which she always kept in her apron pocket. But as soon as she turned her big brown eyes in his direction, he would immediately climb back into his maple tree, although she never tried to pursue him that far.
Several times, she held out her hand full of hazelnuts, palm wide open. Although the offer was tempting, Beebee hadn't survived that long in this strange, snake-infested cave, accepting offerings from the first person who came along. So she'd throw a couple towards him, then return to her duties.
After cleaning up, Rey found the ideal spot to plant her pear trees, where they wouldn't be too draughty and would get enough light. She also replanted a few ferns to protect the soil. During her outings in the forest, always accompanied by Rose and Paige, she tried to locate places where there might be iris or daffodil bulbs, or other species that she could replant in her garden.
But it was no easy task, as as the season progressed, all the plants went underground. She finally dared to ask Cepeo, the castle steward, where bulbs could be found. He scratched his smooth, bald head for a long moment before declaring that he would send a servant to Chandrila to try to find some. Rey immediately changed her mind: she didn't want some poor man to be sent out on the road, just to satisfy one of her whims.
Her days were full, but at night she collapsed on her bed, drained and exhausted. Unfortunately, fatigue wasn't always enough to chase away the bad dreams that assailed her mind. Despite what she had told her husband and the rest of the household, Rey was still deeply shaken by the assault she had suffered. If, during the day, she managed to keep her mind and body occupied so as not to dwell on it, as soon as she took a few moments to settle down and let her mind wander, oppressive images and sensations assailed her memory.
The worst was at night, when she was asleep. Rey would be transported back to the dark woods. It seemed as if a beast was at her heels, but no matter how hard she ran, she could never lose it. More than once, she'd woken up with a start, disoriented and terrified, not knowing where she was. On several occasions, Rose had come in with a candle in hand - her room, and her sister's, being right next door to their mistress's - to find Rey curled up on her bed, shivering under her covers. She would come and sit beside her young mistress, rocking her with a comforting voice.
Rey usually managed to calm down quickly enough, thanked Rose for her thoughtfulness and apologized for ruining her sleep. More than once, her next-in-line had offered to stay with her until she fell asleep. Or to go and wake the Count so he could keep her company. But Rey systematically refused both proposals, not wanting anyone to think she was a child in need of mothering.
She insisted that Rose tell no one, not even her sister, and especially not Benedict. The last thing he needed was to think she was weak and terrorized. Although he had shown signs of confidence in her lately, he was still distant with her. The only time they saw each other was at mealtimes, when they told each other briefly about their day. Ben made a point of telling her everything about the running of the estate, and Rey tried to be attentive. But with her restless nights, she tended to get sleepy, especially in the morning. She did her utmost to keep up appearances, but more than once she thought she caught a worried expression in her husband's eyes.
Despite the passage of time, he still hadn't tried to get into her bed, or even seemed to care. Which Rey eventually found upsetting. At last, however, she managed to find an opportunity to broach the subject. As it happened, several ewes in Chewbacca's village gave birth extremely early: the lambing period normally begins at the start of winter. Some were still in the pasture, and strayed away from the flock to give birth. The countryside had to be combed to find them with their young, before predators or cattle thieves got hold of them.
As an experienced tracker, Ben took an active part in the hunt. By all accounts, he had a sixth sense for finding lost animals. Rey insisted on taking part in the operation, showing that she was just as committed as her husband. As luck would have it, they found a ewe that had become trapped in a crevasse while lambing. The poor, terror-stricken beast was bleating and fussing, unable to eject her lamb or free herself from the trap she'd fallen into.
The young couple of chatelains had to work together: while Rey helped the mother give birth by pulling on the lamb's legs, which half came out, Ben held the ewe on the other side, ready to pull her out of the crevasse as soon as she was free of her young and her belly had swollen. The shepherds saw them return, sweating, their clothes stained with blood and amniotic fluid. Ben carried the still groggy ewe at arm's length. And Rey held the newborn lamb close to her chest.
Chewbacca was so happy and relieved to have all his animals back, that he insisted on serving a beverage of his own to all those who had taken part in the rescue. Rey herself could not resist. She had to accept the strange brandy served to her in a large terracotta jug. She never knew what the drink was made of. Apart from the fact that it burned the back of her throat every time she took a sip, and had a slight mirabelle aftertaste.
While the men sat around the fire telling each other about their exploits, she decided to step aside to bottle-feed the lamb - its mother was still too weak to nurse it - and very, very gently sip her glass of brandy. Over the course of the evening, Ben came to her.
"You seem to have a gift for this," he commented as she kept the little animal, wrapped in a warm blanket like a newborn, on her lap, as it was sucking greedily at the warm bottle of milk Rey handed it.
A quick glance allowed her to see that he had emptied his glass of brandy. Benedict looked more relaxed than usual. Admittedly, he was far less sensitive to alcohol than she was, but that didn't mean it had no effect on him.
"Does that reassure you?" she asked mischievously. "I'll be able to raise our children."
Her cheekbones flushed, as did the tips of his ears, which she could see peeking out from under his hair.
"A lamb doesn't require the same energy as an infant," he said, lowering his head shyly.
"True, but we must have some sooner or later. After all, that's why you needed a wife in the first place, isn't it?"
She scrutinized his reactions. He seemed embarrassed again, though she couldn't understand why.
"Yes," he sighed. "Eventually. But there's no hurry right now. Unless you're particularly anxious to get pregnant. Are you?"
"No," Rey replied spontaneously, before correcting herself. "I mean... of course... I mean... I want children. Like any woman, I suppose. But not just yet. At least, not until it's time. Not until..."
Ben took pity on her and gently moved closer. He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. His weight, the warmth of his palm, which she could feel through the fabric of her garment, always made a strange impression on her: simultaneously reassuring her and making her feverish.
"Don't worry," he said in a soft, suave voice. "We've got plenty of time. Let's finish getting to know each other first. The rest will take its course."
Then came the night of a particularly violent storm. Rey was once again tormented by a nightmare in which she was being chased through the forest by a ferocious creature she couldn't see, but whose footsteps she could hear pounding the earth. Then there was a terrible cracking sound and a howl akin to the wailing of a ghost. The young woman abruptly opened her eyes and sat up on her bed.
An icy chill had crept into her room and droplets of water sprayed her face. A flash of lightning tore through the night sky and briefly illuminated the room. Then she saw that her window shutters were wide open. The wind from the storm must have blown the lintel and pushed the shutters open, and the rain and wind had taken the opportunity to invade her room.
Pulling herself together, Rey hurriedly left her bed and went to close the shutters. But no sooner had she closed the lintel than she felt something graze her cheek, like a claw. She stepped back with a frightened scream. Then it seemed to her that something passed quickly in front of her. She heard what sounded like screeching and flapping wings. Something had entered her room.
At the height of her terror, she let out another frightened cry. Submerged in darkness, she could no longer orient herself. How could she tell where her bed was? Where was the door? Where could she find anything to defend herself?
And she always felt that presence around her, lurking in the shadows, ready to attack at any moment. In despair, she curled up on herself, praying that it was just a nightmare and that she'd wake up soon.
Suddenly, the creak of a door echoed through the room, and a faint halo of light appeared to her left, cutting out a tall, massive figure.
"Reynella!" Ben's voice called. "What the hell's going on here? I heard you scream."
Rey rushed towards him, curling up against his bare chest. Clearly, he must have left his bed in a hurry, for he was wearing nothing but his pants and a negligently thrown overcoat.
"Something came into my room," Rey whimpered. "I felt it pass by me as I was closing the window. It almost scratched me."
Ben leaned over her to examine her face by the light of the oil lamp in his hand. His wife was disheveled, strands of her hair sticking to her forehead and tear-drenched cheeks. She looked petrified. On closer inspection, there was indeed a scratch next to her left eye.
Scratching and screeching noises echoed from the opposite corner of the room. Pushing Rey behind him, Ben approached the bed with slow steps; his arm holding the lamp towards the darkness, watching in the shadows for the slightest threat. Again, a high-pitched squeak was heard above his head, causing him to look up at the ceiling beams. There, he saw a small, black, hairy form huddled between the baseboards, clinging to the cracks in the wood with tiny hooks.
"A bat," he said to Rey, who approached fearfully. “It probably got into your room when the window opened, to escape the storm."
He grabbed one of the pillows on the bed and threw it towards the intruder. The animal fell to the floor, uttering soft, plaintive moans. Seeing it now lying on the floor, its tiny wings folded around its tiny body, Rey was ashamed to have been frightened by such a pitiful creature.
As Ben was about to crush it, she promptly stopped him, begging him to spare it.
"Please, it's not its fault! It just wanted to get out of the way of the storm. It was probably more frightened than I was; it doesn't deserve to die."
Ben looked at his wife, then at the bat curled up on the ground. He let out a weary sigh, then stooped down to the wretched creature, catching it with a corner of his coat. Holding it gently in his large hand, he went to the window and reopened the shutters. Outside, the storm was slowly receding. A few flashes of lightning still intermittently tore through the darkness, but the rumble of thunder was gradually subsiding. After releasing the bat outside - which scurried away without a second thought - Ben carefully closed the shutters, making sure they were securely locked.
Rey stood beside him, holding the oil lamp he'd left on a cabinet during the operation. In the half-light, the light from the flame redefined the contours of his torso and gave his skin an opal hue.
"Well, I suppose now's the time to say good night."
He reached out to take the lamp back, but Rey drew back, staring at him with imploring eyes.
"Couldn't... you stay here tonight?" she asked. "Just this once."
He was silent for a moment. Maybe not more than a second, but it seemed a long time to Rey. He wasn't going to make her beg, was he?
Finally, he shrugged slightly.
"Fair enough. If it'll help you get to sleep, I'll be glad to."
Rey held back a sigh of relief. Even though her heart began to beat faster, as he moved closer to the bed and dropped his coat from his shoulders. His back was milky white, streaked in places with scars and claw marks, as if he'd once fought an animal.
She felt a strange throbbing in her lower abdomen as he pushed aside the covers and lay down on the feather mattress. Resting his head on the pillow, he turned his face towards her, waiting for her to join him. Rey blew on the lamp flame, before placing it on a nearby console. Groping around, she found the bed base, slipping back under the covers. In the darkness, her hand grazed Ben's skin. Maybe his shoulder, maybe his chest. As soon as she was in bed, he wrapped an arm around her and drew her against him.
He was almost naked and she wore only a simple linen shirt. As on the first night they'd spent together, she could feel his belly against her back, expanding then deepening, to the rhythm of his breathing.
The next morning, Rey woke up alone in bed. If it hadn't been for the oil lamp still on the console and Ben's lingering scent permeating the sheets and pillows, she might have thought she'd dreamed the whole scene from the other night.
She assumed he must have gotten up early to go to his room and change for mass. As was his habit.
She left her bed herself and performed her daily ablutions. Paige came at her usual time to help her dress, before going down to breakfast. But to her astonishment, when she arrived in the dining room, Rey found her husband's place empty and only one place setting for one person: herself.
Rey assumed that Ben must have been unavoidably called away on some unforeseen business, and that she'd run into him later in the day. So she went about her daily chores. This time, she almost succeeded in getting Beebee to eat out of her hand: the squirrel had been so bold as to pluck a toasted almond from the hollow of her open palm, before hastily carrying it off to its hiding place.
She also made an inventory of her medicine jars, thinking she should start preparing herbal infusions and healing balms, in anticipation of the rigors of winter and the ailments it was sure to bring with it. Her whole afternoon was spent listing the ingredients she had at her disposal and those she lacked. She ate on the run in her room and didn't see the time go by until it was time for dinner.
But to her astonishment, she once again sat alone at the dining room table.
"His Grace hasn't come home yet?" she asked the lackey who was bringing her food, trying hard to hide her impatience.
"His Grace has not left his room since this morning," the servant replied succinctly.
"What do you mean?"
"An extreme fever. He's ordered us not to disturb him."
"My husband is unwell and no one has seen fit to inform me!"
The servant shrugged.
"It happens sometimes. He usually stays in his room for a day or two, then gets up and goes off to the hermitage. Then he comes back, fresh as a daisy. There's nothing more to be done."
"My God, what if he's really sick and needs treatment? Has he even been seen by a doctor or an apothecary?"
"I've told you, My Lady, there's not much to be done. His grandfather and uncle suffered from the same ailment. They always leave it to God in these cases."
Rey held back her frustration. How these people's bigotry exasperated her at times!
"Did he at least eat something?"
"A bowl of broth was brought up. Rose put it in front of his room, but he didn't touch it."
Unable to hear any more, Rey hurriedly got up from the table and went straight to her husband's apartments. She didn't have to look far: Ben's room was just one floor above hers. She knocked on the door. At first, only silence answered. But as she persisted, pounding ever louder, Ben's infuriated voice finally called out to her from inside the room:
"I said leave me alone! I don't want to see anybody!"
"It's your wife!" Rey answered. "I've just been informed that you're unwell. I've come to enquire about your condition."
"I don't need you! Please go away!"
He'd better be unwell. Otherwise, she wouldn't let this rudeness go. She turned the doorknob and found it unlocked.
"I'm coming in!" she warned.
No sooner had she pushed open the door than her nose was assailed by a strong odor of musk and perspiration. The window shutters were drawn. A dying fire crackled in the fireplace, giving off a faint light, without which she would've had great difficulty finding her way around. She had never set foot in her husband's bedroom before.
She found Ben lying on his bed. He had pushed back the covers and was completely naked, his large body folded in a fetal position, his back to her. As she slowly approached, she saw that he was drenched in sweat. His skin glistened, droplets beading on the surface. Yet it wasn't excessively hot in the room. In fact, despite the fire, it was quite cold.
He was definitely running a fever.
Close enough, Rey instinctively brought her hand to her husband's forehead. It was clammy and burning. Locks of his hair stuck to his temples. But as soon as Ben felt her touch, he pushed her hand away.
"Go away!" he growled.
He moved away from her, curling further into himself, his long legs bent against his chest, his spine curving sharply from the nape of his neck to the bottom of his back. His thighs trembled imperceptibly, as if gripped by tetany. He was panting loudly.
"And leave you like this?" Rey scandalized. "It's out of the question!"
"You can't do anything for me. So, for heaven's sake, leave me alone."
"You'd be wrong. I know something about medicine. I know potions that can relieve all kinds of fevers."
Ben let out another grunt, close to a sneer this time.
"This fever can't be cured by herbs. It's a divine punishment. I must accept it and endure it in silence."
In the darkness, Rey rolled her eyes.
"God never ordered us to suffer to please Him. At least let me try to relieve you."
She spotted a ewer and a basin in a corner of the room. She dipped her handkerchief in the water and came back to dab Ben's face, to refresh him a little. This seemed to soothe him at first. He began to breathe deeply and even curled up against her. His head rested on her thigh and one of his hands grasped a flap of her dress, squeezing it between his fingers like a child.
As Rey tidied up his hair, he grabbed her wrist and brought it close to his nose, sniffing it hard like a dog sniffing a familiar scent. Then, abruptly, he tensed up and crawled to the other end of the bed, as if he'd just been bitten by a horsefly.
"Get out," he snarled.
There was a warning in the tone of his voice. Something that rattled Rey's nerves.
"I just want to take care of you, like a good wife should."
Suddenly, he leapt on top of her and slammed her against the bed frame. It was a gesture so sudden and impulsive, so far from what she knew of him, that she was petrified. He brought his face close to hers. A bead of sweat trickled from his nose onto her cheek. She felt suffocated by the cloud of his male scent that enveloped and even overwhelmed her.
Then, in the darkness, she saw his eyes: two amber-brown irises, scanning her like a wolf stalking its prey. And for a moment, she thought she knew what a rabbit caught in the clutches of a predator felt like.
"You. Can. Do. Nothing. For. Me."
He'd pressed each word, his voice growing deeper and cavernous with each syllable.
"Now, get out of here. Before something we'll both regret later happens."
He pulled away from her as abruptly as he had drawn near. Realizing that he was offering her a last opportunity, Rey jumped off the bed and rushed out of the room.