Under my fingers, you shiver
Your fever hasn't subsided

It's been long hours you've lain ill
I am blaming the arrow.
Blaming the war.
Blaming you.

But I have no heart to say all of these,
As I dip a cloth to wipe your skin..
And wish to God that you will be alright..

Your arms..
Tested and strong
Yet covered with scars and fresh wounds..

The further I trace over your skin,
The heavier my breath becomes

My handsome liege..
A weak sigh I never want to let out in your presence, escapes me..

I turned my eyes to our pavilion entrance,
The sun has yet to descend to horizon,
and still the golden ray drapes over us all.

The air is filled with every taste of agitation and suspicious wondering eyes..

Our men have not uttered any words
since they brought you back.
Nor dared to ask,
And I dared not to tell

"It wouldn't have happened had you listened,"
Another protest chimes in my mind

"My lady," a weary, coarse whisper I am familiar with

My heart drops,
My tears rushing its way out..

Relief washes over me.