He did much better this time, though, and she got the better part of eight spoonfuls into him before he signaled that he’d had enough and slumped back down to horizontal.

“How do you feel?” she asked, trying to fluff his pillow. “Other than terrible, I mean.”

He moved his head slightly to the side. It seemed to be a sickly interpretation of a shrug.

“Of course you’re feeling terrible,” she clarified, “but is there any change? More terrible? Less terrible?”

He made no response.

“The same amount of terrible?” She laughed. She actually laughed. Amazing. “I sound ridiculous.”

He nodded. It was a small movement, but bigger than he’d managed so far.

“You heard me,” she said, unable to contain the huge, trembling smile on her face. “You mocked me, but you heard me.”

He nodded again.

“That’s good. You can feel free. When you’re better, and you will be better, you’re not allowed to do that, and by that I mean mock me, but for now, you may go right ahead. Oh!” She jumped to her feet, suddenly bursting with nervous energy. “I should check your leg. It hasn’t been long since Dr. Winters left, I know, but there’s no point in not looking.”

It took only two steps and one second to see that his leg was unchanged. The wound was still an angry, glistening red, but it was no longer tinged with that sickly yellow, and more importantly, she saw no red streaks sneaking up the limb.

“The same,” she told him. “Not that I thought there would be a change, but as I said, there’s no point in not . . . well, you know.” She smiled sheepishly. “I already said it.”

She held silent for a moment, content just to gaze at him. His eyes were closed, and indeed, he didn’t look any different than he had when Dr. Winters had been examining him, but Honoria had heard his voice, and she’d given him water, and that was enough to bring hope to her heart.

“Your fever!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I should check that.” She touched his forehead. “You feel the same to me. Which is to say, warmer than you should. But better than you were. You are definitely better than you were.” She paused, wondering if she was speaking into the proverbial mist. “Can you still hear me?”

He moved his head.

“Oh, good, because I know I sound foolish, and there is no point sounding foolish for no one.”

His mouth moved. She thought he might be smiling. Somewhere in his mind, he was smiling.

“I am happy to be foolish for you,” she announced.

He nodded.

She put one hand to her mouth, letting her elbow rest on the opposite arm, which was banded across her waist. “I wish I knew what you were thinking.”

He gave a tiny shrug.