“It is uncomfortable because you are so warm, and the cold is such a shock, but it will help,” I promised. “Trust me.”
Mamoru swallowed, and made a noise of protest in his throat, but he didn’t attempt to argue. I held him as I had when he’d been a child starved for attention, and myself not yet old enough to keep from allowing him his indulgences. I could feel him shivering despite the heat still in his body, and I felt the beginnings of fear flicker to life deep in my heart. We were still too far from my sister’s house for him to be so ill. If I could coax the fever down, then that would be one thing, but if I could not…
The problem was that I couldn’t shake my gut instinct—that this had something to do with Iseul. I did not want to believe that such a thing was possible, that it would be so simple for one brother to turn against the other in such a final way—using forbidden arts—but then, Iseul had already turned his heart and his hand against Mamoru. What else could I expect?
“You’ll be all right,” I told him.
I had no way to render what I offered, but I promised it nonetheless. It was part of my own stubbornness and pride—the very same flaws that had caused me to imagine I, of all men, could protect my prince outside the palace. These were the very same flaws that had inspired me to tell him: Run.
When we were both numb from the water, and long past the moment I’d grown accustomed to the sound of my teeth chattering, Mamoru stilled and his breathing evened. I pressed my wet cheek against his and listened, closely, for each rasp.
“I’m better,” Mamoru whispered.
We’d see about that.
I took him up onto shore nonetheless and wrapped him in the silk. It would soon be ruined, soaked through and stained forever; no longer would it give us away to any man who knew his cloth.
The sun was beginning to rise as I set out, following the course of the river. I listened closely to each sound Mamoru made, but he slept soundly upon the horse, his cheeks only the barest pink. He was no longer as burning hot as he had been the night before, but I refused to let my guard down. Following the river only took us a few miles out of our way, and for now, it was the only cure I had should the fever return.
That night, it did.
It was as soon as the sun dipped beneath the mountain horizon that his teeth began to chatter. Almost immediately I could feel his skin begin to burn, as though some furnace had been ignited within his chest, pumping his blood molten hot through his limbs. In the fading light his cheeks were flushed red, but around his mouth the skin was deadly white.
I dismounted and pulled him after me, and once more we spent hours in the river as the water lashed around me and I held on tight.
He struggled to free himself—if he did, he would drown—as though I were the unlucky fisherman who fell in love with a mermaid and sought to keep her as his wife. He was slippery and strong enough that I had trouble keeping my hold firm, but I wrapped my fingers in his sleeves and stood strong against him.
“Let me free,” he pleaded—begged—commanded. “I know how to swim, Kouje, I’ll be all right.”
“I cannot agree to that,” I replied.
He abandoned begging. Speaking became too much for him. At long last, his arms and legs tired of beating and kicking and he stilled, only to shake now and then with a shiver or a sob.
“Please,” he said, once, his voice rough with effort.
“I cannot,” I said again.
After that, he saw it was no use, and whatever demon had taken hold of him relinquished. It was only me against the fever then, but that was the worse of the two enemies. I lost track of all time as I held him in the water, until at last I felt him go limp and knew he was sleeping.
Again, I wrapped him in the silk. This time, I waited upon the shores of the Suijin for the sun to rise before I mounted up and spurred the weary horse onward.
We were drawing ever closer to the mountains, and when we came to a shallow part of the river, we waded across the water