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Ever since her school days, Lysithea had always avoided the infirmary, even if she was sick. She didn’t want anyone to know how frail she was, because then they’d inevitably feel bad for her and insist on helping her. And she didn’t need their sympathies or their help.
So when she woke up in a bed in the infirmary after the battle at Gronder Field, she was furious.
How had she ended up here? It was hard to remember all the details. They’d been advancing on the Adrestian army when Caspar punched Leonie, knocking her off her horse and to the ground. Lysithea had barged in there, planting her feet in the mud, firing a blast of dark magic from her palms. But Caspar had vanished, and she’d accidentally hit Linhardt instead. Before she could turn around to look for her intended target, an armored fist had collided with the base of her skull.
Her head really hurt. A lot. And her ears were ringing, a thin, high-pitched wail.
A bright voice cut through the ringing. “Oh, good, you’re finally awake.”
Lysithea blinked again, wrinkling her nose and turning to her left. That was Leonie, all right, her short orange hair in its little tiny ponytail at her shoulder, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. Her usual cheery expression was replaced with a frown.
“Leonie? You’re all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?” Her orange eyes were soft with concern.
“Okay, I guess. Why are you up here?”
“I wanted to bring you something.” She pointed to the other side of the bed. “I picked flowers for you. And Hilda decorated the vase. Aren’t they pretty?”
Lysithea turned over to the other side of the bed. Sitting on the bedside table was a clear green bottleneck vase, its glass surface reflecting the bright sun, a chain of handmade black and yellow baubles hanging around the base of its neck. Fresh white lilies, slim and tall, and sunflowers burdened with seeds stood in water in the vase.
She turned slowly back over to face Leonie. “They’re gorgeous, thank you.”
“If you want, I can get you some dinner. Raphael said he’d try to save some cake for you, but you probably have a better chance of getting cake if I get it for you instead.”
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry. What I really want to know is how I ended up here.”
“Okay, let’s see. We were at Gronder Field, fighting the Empire and the Kingdom armies. You tried to hit Caspar, but missed and hit Linhardt instead. Then Caspar slugged you with his gauntlet while you were distracted. You got totally knocked out, and I carried you back to the monastery.”
Lysithea’s eyes widened. “You carried me back?”
“Yep. Just like I used to carry you around for my training, but with how long your legs are now, it’s a little hard to do that.”
“Honestly. I’m not a child or something. And I wasn’t back then, either.”
She tried to sit up, but her head pounded with the effort, and she cried out in pain.
“Lysithea!” Leonie pushed her down, hands on her shoulders, so that she lay flat in the bed. “You have to rest. You might have a concussion after a traumatic injury like that.”
“Was I really hit that hard?”
“Your skull’s not fractured or anything, but you had some serious bruising. Lucky that Caspar hit you with the blunt side. I don’t think he really wanted to hurt you.”
“Oh, so I was only hit with the blunt side. Why do I have this awful ringing in my ears then?”
Leonie furrowed her brow slightly. “Hey, I was only saying that it could have been worse. You got lucky, but don’t think I’m not worried.”
“Honestly, I don’t need your concern. It’s not like I’m frail or something. I’ll live.”
“Lysithea, enough already!”
Lysithea turned her head, slowly so as to not strain her injured neck.
“I’m not worried about you because I think you’re helpless. I’m worried because I care about you. I was scared half to death.” The harshness that had been in her voice just a moment ago was gone.
Lysithea’s mouth fell open. “Because… you care about me?”
“I can’t care enough.” Leonie brushed a piece of hair away from Lysithea’s face. Lysithea’s skin tingled when Leonie’s thumb grazed her skin, and her heart fluttered when Leonie set her palm against her cheek. “I want you to be safe. I’m scared because I know just how frail you are, even if you try to hide it from everyone.”
“Leonie—” Lysithea choked, slowly lifting her own hand from her side to reach for Leonie’s. She didn’t have the heart to tell her that caring about her was futile, that she feared closeness with anyone because of her fate. Yet she already knew that whatever she told Leonie wouldn’t affect how she felt about Lysithea.
“I’m sorry,” Leonie said, gently removing her hand, the callused tips of her fingers trailing delicately across Lysithea’s skin. “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. You’re so exhausted, and I was only thinking of my own feelings.”
“No. I was the selfish one.” Lysithea returned her hand to her side. “I only took the hit because I tried to protect you. I wasn’t thinking either. It would be stupid of me to die on a battlefield. I have to make the most of the time I’m given, not squander it by dying.”
“No, Lysithea. You were being selfless. You need to think about yourself. Don’t go to reckless lengths. We don’t have to give our lives for the cause.”
Lysithea frowned. “I was only thinking of you. I never intended to get hurt.”
“I know.” Leonie sighed. “It’s one of those things you just can’t help doing. If you had been the one hurt, I would have done the exact same thing. Even so…”
“Even so?”
“You need to live, Lysithea. I—” She paused, her thought process visible on her face. “I don’t want to lose you. I want you to have just a little more time.”
“Just a little more time,” Lysithea echoed. “That’s the sweetest thing you could say to me, Leonie.”
“I know how important time is to you. So that’s what I’m going to fight for. For all the many years we’ll have after the war, we’ll all win this fight together. We’re going to live.”
“All of us?”
Leonie nodded. “All of us. Maybe, after the war”—she paused again, gripping her knees, a slight blush coloring her cheeks—“we’ll live, together. And I’ll grow old with you, and you with me.”
Lysithea smiled weakly. The memory of Leonie’s palm against her skin, warm and gentle, made her spine tingle and blood rush to her cheeks. The back of her head pounded. Her veins ached with the strain of her Crests.
Lilies, slim, tall, elegant. Sunflowers, drooping with the weight of all that they were. Without water, even gorgeous things wilt.
“I wish I could grow old with you,” she said, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.