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I may, your Majesty…” Norrix trailed off, gazing past the King and soon to be Queen, to where Lady Lucia had run off.
“Yes, yes, you may run off. But, I expect you to be out with your experiment on time,” King Reimund states before pausing to take a drink of his wine. “If you’re late we won’t have the pleasure of seeing Baynard turn it into scrap.”
The mage’s expression falls flat, but neither royal sees it; one focused on the tournament, the other glancing over to Lucia’s empty seat. Still, he stands up, striding out of the box to find the lady in waiting.
Even in the afternoon warmth, the metal lip of the barrel feels cool in Lucia’s grip. It’s grounding, helping her nausea ebb away. Yet her stomach still feels knotted, the image of the dead pixie still burned into her head. She can’t say why it bothers her this much, but it seems it’ll be a more common experience the longer they stay here.
“Are you feeling bette-” a voice just behind her asks, cut off as she startles and shoves its owner down. Her eyes widen as she recognizes the mage, her already flushed face burning redder in embarrassment.
“Oh Gods I am so sorry!” Lucia exclaims, offering her hand to Norrix. He grabs it with an “It’s alright.”, and together they hoist him up. Back on two feet, he dusts himself off, smiling sheepishly at her.
“Apologies, Lady Lucia I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He crosses his arms back behind his back. “I just wished to check up on you, make sure you’re alright.”
For a bare moment her blood runs cold, but with a grounding breath it fades and with it, the churning in her gut.
“I’m feeling better, Sir Norrix, just a little overheated.” It’s not the whole truth, and judging by the way the man purses his lips, he doesn’t quite believe her. But thankfully whatever he’s thinking he keeps to himself, choosing to take a different path.
“Just Norrix, my lady,” He corrects, before hurriedly continuing on. “If you wish, I have a tent set up, with some supplies inside. You could rest there and have a drink.”
“Water would be appreciated, but I wouldn’t want to distract you from your duties.”
“It is no problem, I am headed that way as it is.” the mage gestures deeper in the tents. “And I couldn’t in good conscience leave you on your own when you're unwell.”
She pauses, debating whether to accept the offer. Lucia knows she should try returning to the tournament, yet the image of the dead pixie; limp in the king’s grip; draws bile back up her throat. Surely by now it would have been disposed of, but that wasn’t a risk she would be willing to take.
So with a soft smile, she nods. “Thank you, Norrix. If you would lead the way?”
Returning the smile he then heads off, leading the lady through the sea of tents.