56 In sickness and health
The next week passed in a flash between Cael's visits to the dungeons, his resumed bouts of regular training, and all the other things that happened in Sanremo di Mare.
Silvio didn't stay in the Oliveira tower for long before leaving for his own lands. Cael didn't miss him. Ignazio guested a couple more days, but in the end, didn't stay for long, too.
"I'm sad to leave too, but my men wouldn't return without me. But hey, you should come to my tower for the Midsummer Festival! It's gonna be a blast, I tell you," he said to Cael before leaving.
All for the better. Cael was looking forward to going somewhere where people didn't yet hear about his blood magic. If before citizens of Sanremo di Mare treated Cael with disdain because he was manaless, now they whispered he was a demon in disguise.
But now Cael was more blase about this. What did those people know, anyway? Nothing.
About that time, Enzo sent Cael's father a letter with threats of addressing the royal court for support and demands to apologize for the "unlawful massacre of his border forces" and "kidnapping of his only daughter".
Gianni tore those letters into pieces and burned them to ashes in front of his sons.
"The moon will sooner fall down on earth than I agree to that preposterous notion," he seethed. "Enzo has no hold on us—otherwise, he wouldn't have sent such laudable threats. The royal court? Humph! Anyone could tell that Enzo was the aggressor and the fault would be his."
Cael mentioned this event to Ginevra, which elicited a bitter chuckle as her only reaction. He visited the woman regularly—both with gifts, with conversation, and with kisses.
Father didn't miss the gifts, at the very least. But he kept the promise he had given to Cael, only reminding him about the approaching deadline from time to time. And, of course, doubting the entire strategy Cael chose.
But it was working. It was.
With each day, Ginevra grew stronger in body, but less prickly in soul. Not by much—but by the end of the week most of her bandages could be taken off, and she actually said Cael "thank you" when she brought her some books to read.
Actual progress! Albeit a slow one. There were only three more weeks left… Sometimes, it was frustrating. But he didn't doubt himself—until one moment.
By that moment, Federico had been deemed stable by healers. There was no saying, though, how long he would need to heal—and if he would ever fully heal at all. Cael wasn't a friend to the man, but they were acquainted—it was polite, at least, to pay him a visit, when healers finally declared him well enough for one.
And he fought with Father against Ginevra. Protected him at the price of his own health. This warranted gratitude.
When Cael came to the hospital room where Federico was recovering, he was immediately hit by the smell of the place. The smell of the man.
It was a smell of sickness—not too unlike the smell of a regular unwashed body, but worse somehow.
The sight wasn't pleasant, either. Federico was covered by a thin white sheet. What showed above—
head and neck—was completely covered by bandages, leaving only openings for mouth and nose. A middle-aged nurse sat in a chair near the wall, reading a book, but stood up at Cael's entry.
"The patient isn't well enough for long conversations, signore," she whispered, not lifting her eyes from her feet. "He's sleeping, but if you wish to wake him, try to not startle him."
Cael nodded and turned to Federico. It was impossible to tell if he was awake until the man spoke first.
"Who is it?" His voice was low and hoarse. "I thought I got all the visitors already."
"It's Cael Oliveira. I just wanted to thank you for helping my father… With words. I'm afraid I have little else of value to give."
"Right." Federico's head turned slightly towards Cael, even though the man couldn't see. "I heard you have improved by leaps and bounds. I wish you had come to the fight earlier… But at least now Ginevra will suffer as I am."
Cael swallowed, suddenly nervous. He approached Federico's bed, and already knowing this would end badly, asked, "Will you heal?"
Federico's reply was bitter. Bitter enough that Cael could taste it on his tongue.
"Eventually. From part of this. Never going to be pretty again… But what does it matter? Healers say I might never see my reflection now. I went blind!"
Cael flinched. His palms clenched into fists at his sides.
For the first time, he was met with the worst consequences of Ginevra's actions. He could forgive her for fighting on the wrong side and murdering his people—she didn't seem to mind his own killings. But this…
'This is more cruel than death!'
Just a few hours later, Cael repeated the same thing to Ginevra in person. He didn't hide his anger—
but anger hid his doubts. Maybe trying to redeem Ginevra was a fool's errand, like his father said.
She didn't as much as twitch at Cael's glare—just glared right back.
"I didn't mutilate him for fun. I tried to kill the man! Anyone weaker would've died. Really, THIS is what you want to blame me for?" She snorted. "Shows just how fickle you really are. I was asking myself when you would lose patience with that idiotic idea of yours."
The words were sobering. They made Cael take a step back. Then, to his surprise, Ginevra let out a huff of breath.
"Look, if I knew that wouldn't kill him, I'd used a stronger spell. I've seen enough cripples already. Attacking to maim is easier, but just as effective as attacking to kill—but if you do this, it just shows how weak you are compared to your enemy. Not strong enough to defeat them the way you want, first of all."
Cael eyes widened. An idea sparked to life in his head.
"Yes. You are right, Gin. And if I want to do something about this… questioning you won't help, anyway."
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