***SPOILERS AHEAD FOR WICKED ENCOUNTERS, SEASON 1 OF THE WICKED SERIES***
After the betrayal that shattered Cordelia's world, she finds herself in the arms of Elias's enemy--his twin brother. Cane has trapped her in an icy paradise with no friends...
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I pace the kitchen, and for what has to be the twentieth time, Ruth sighs in annoyance. She swings open the refrigerator door, the bun on the top of her head bobbing as she yanks items out. Like a hummingbird fluttering from flower to flower, she buzzes from cupboard to cupboard. The next thing I know, a glass of blood is thrust into my hand.
"You are driving me mad," the yeti says, marching back to the island and vigorously chopping vegetables. "The girl has the flu. She will get over it with some rest and good food."
"How do you know? She has been sick for almost twenty-four hours and is showing no signs of getting better."
Ruth doesn't so much as flinch as I bark my question. "I researched it. Which you could do yourself instead of wearing a trail into the floor."
"I did that last night when she got sick." I toss back the blood and slam my glass on the counter.
Last night was miserable for Cordelia. Her body was rejecting everything she put in it. The sheets on the side of the bed where she slept were soaked through from her overheated body. I wanted to change them for her, but she said it hurt to stand. The last thing I wanted was to cause her more discomfort. So, I kept guard over her, making sure I was there every time she so much as turned.
Ruth placed a steaming mug in my hand. "Take that to her. It has honey and lemon and will help her to fight the sickness."
I thank my housekeeper and head upstairs.
Cordelia is fast asleep, trying to catch up on what she missed out on last night. I almost feel bad for needing to wake her, so I tiptoe my way inside and set the concoction Ruth made on the nightstand. Sitting next to her hip, I brush Cordelia's damp hair from her face. She is paler than usual, the freckles sprinkled over the bridge of her nose are less golden. If I hadn't read about the flu in several articles, I would think she was dying.
Her eyelashes flutter and her colorless lips part. As if it is the hardest feat she has ever faced, she wrenches her eyes open.
"How are you feeling?" I ask.
"Horrible," she squeaks. "I need my inhaler, please."
"Of course," I say, twisting around to grab it from the nightstand. Instead of giving it to her, I pop off the cap and hold it to her lips, supporting the back of her head so she can lean up just enough to take in the medication.
"Thank you," she whispers as she lies back down.
"You don't have to thank me," I say. "Listen, Ruth gave me some herbal tea with honey and lemon. She says it will help you to feel better. Do you think I could move you into one of these chairs just for a moment and you could drink a little? Then I could change the sheets really quick? I don't want you sleeping in these anymore. They're all sweaty from last night and I want you to be comfortable in clean sheets."
She groans. "I don't want to..."
I run the back of my hand over her cheek. "Please, Delia. Try for me?"
