Chapter Five: No Time at All

Two things managed to stir Orina out of her troubled, grief-stricken sleep. One was the painfully bright sunlight streaming in through the now curtainless window. The other was her physical misery. She felt light-headed and dizzy, not to mention extremely nauseous. With a pitiful moan, she emptied the contents of her stomach into the curtains in her lap. Gagging at the smell and the horrid aftertaste in her formerly dry mouth, she bundled up the curtains and tossed them away from her, but not before ripping off a clean shred and wiping her face. Simultaneously clutching her stomach and her mouth, she got up and stumbled over to her bed. Collapsing onto it with a low groan, she curled up and closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to die.

She opened her eyes a crack as she heard the familiar click of her door opening. For a split-second, her heart leaped with the hope that it would be Decamerone, and that the previous day was the product of whatever illness she had suddenly caught this morning. Her hope was dashed as she saw that the figure in the doorway was much shorter and had short black hair. Shoving down another dry heave, she squeezed her eyes shut again. "Go away. There's only one person I want to see right now, and it isn't you. And I'm in too much pain to worry about offending you." Her paler-than-usual hands gripped her pillow tightly as she suppressed another sob.

"Oh, Orina." Looking pained, Alyse shut the door behind herself. "I'm so sorry. I..." She trailed off, her nose wrinkling. "Eeugh. What smells?"

"I got sick," Orina muttered.

Alyse raised an eyebrow. "In.... the morning?"

"Since when does it matter what hour of the day or night I puke?" Orina snapped.

"Sometimes it does..." Alyse murmured. She sat down on the bed beside her sister. "Orina.... what were you and Decamerone going to tell everyone yesterday?"

"It doesn't matter now," Orina replied, her voice so choked up with held-back tears that it was barely audible. "Nothing matters now that he's...." She trailed off, whimpering as she gave in and started crying again.

"You two were... together, weren't you?" Alyse asked carefully.

"Seven years...." Orina whispered, more to herself than to Alyse. "Seven wonderful years...."

"Seven years..." Alyse breathed. "Oh my...."

"We were going to have forever," Orina continued. "We should have had forever. Instead we had no time at all...." Her whole body jerked violently as she began to sob again. Alyse struggled not to cry herself at the sound of her sister's misery.

"I just want to die," Orina sobbed. "That's all I want, I just want to die." She opened her eyes and looked up at Alyse with blue eyes that had gone dull and lifeless from pain. "Please... say you'll kill me. I couldn't do it.... it refused to do it.... I need someone to, to make all the pain stop.... forever...."

Alyse shook her head. "I can't do that," she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. "I can't. And if you couldn't, there must be something holding you back." She took a deep breath and voiced the suspicion that had been growing in her for the past few minutes. "Orina, are you... pregnant?"

Orina stared at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Me? Pregnant? That's a good one, Alyse." She started to laugh hysterically, but her laughs quickly turned into sobs.

"I could never be pregnant," she continued quietly. "He told me himself it would be impossible, because of what he was. They have that tendency, you know."

"Perhaps he was wrong about himself," Alyse stated quietly. "Or perhaps he was the exception."

"Impossible," Orina whispered, shaking her head. "That... that couldn't happen. Not to me. I'm not going to have his child. It's impossible...."

Alyse sighed. "Maybe, maybe not." She got up and headed towards the door. "But remember, pregnant or not, you eventually need to eat." Orina didn't move, she just laid there, staring at the ceiling, tears flowing freely down her face. Shaking her head sadly, Alyse left.

Orina let out a pathetic whimper as the door shut behind Alyse. She couldn't move, could barely breathe, frozen by the thought that Alyse might be right. What a cruel twist of fate it would be, if she were to have Decamerone's child, and never be able to tell him. Closing her eyes again, she went back to sleep.

A little while later, Orina awoke to the door opening again. She turned her head to see Alyse walk in, carrying a tray with food on it. Despite herself, she felt her stomach growl at the smell of the hot food. With a sigh, she sat up as Alyse shut the door and sat down on the bed beside her, laying the tray between them.

"I'm fine now," Orina said, her voice raspy from all the crying she had been doing. "You don't have to wait on me."

"....You are?" Alyse asked curiously.

Orina nodded, yawning. "Yeah, I feel fine. Physically," she added quietly.

"Regardless, you have to eat." Alyse gestured to the tray. "Come on, it won't hurt you to eat."

Orina looked down at the food. A large hollowed-out bread bowl filled with some kind of soup, crackers, and a mug of hot tea. With a sigh, she picked up the spoon and began eating.

"Not bad, eh?" Alyse commented, noting with interest how hungry Orina seemed now that she was actually eating. She had a strong feeling that she was right, even if her sister refused to believe it. And yet, in a strange way, she hoped she wasn't. It would only worsen the tragedy for Orina, to have to bear her dead lover's child alone, and never be able to tell him.

"I feel like some kind of invalid being pampered," Orina said as she sipped her tea.

"There's nothing wrong with accepting help," Alyse replied softly. "You don't always have to do everything yourself, you know. I know you can take care of yourself, but we all need help sometimes."

"I know," Orina sighed. "I never said there was anything wrong with this. I appreciate it, in fact. Thank you."

"I remember the last time I was sick," she continued, half to herself. "Just six months ago. He took care of me." Her pain-filled eyes hazed over with the distant memory. "Fed me... bathed me... dressed me.... undressed me." She smiled sadly. "Did everything for me. Didn't even care that he might catch it, which he did. But then I got to take care of him." She sighed. "Almost feels like yesterday...."

"Orina?" Decamerone knocked on her door. "Are you okay? It's late, how come you're not up?" A low groan answered him. Looking concerned, he opened the door.

Orina lay curled up on her bed, looking utterly miserable. "Are you all right?" he asked, gently shutting the door behind himself.

"I'm sick," Orina moaned. "I caught something awful. Go away before I give it to you."

Decamerone shook his head. "No. No way am I going to just leave you here, sick. I'll take care of you."

"You don't have to do that," she protested.

"Yes, I do," he insisted. Sitting down on her bed, he gently brushed her hair away from her face, noting with a slight frown that her cheeks were warmer than usual.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You have a slight fever," he replied.

She smiled crookedly up at him. "That's because you're touching me," she replied softly. "You always give me a bit of a fever." Smiling at her, he bent and gave her a small kiss.

She shook her head as he pulled away. "Don't do that again," Orina said hoarsely. "You'll catch this for sure and be miserable like me."

"Will you take care of me if that happens?" he inquired.

"Yes, of course," Orina replied.

"Then I won't be miserable." Decamerone smiled at her again. She smiled back.

"I'm already feeling a little better now," she whispered.

"Good." Taking one of her hands, he squeezed it gently. "Now just wait, and I'll go get you some food." Giving her another small kiss, he got up and left the room. Orina smiled despite her physical misery.

"What did you bring me?" Orina asked as Decamerone returned.

"Just some toast and tea -- I figured that's probably all you can handle right now. Don't sit up, wait and I'll help you." Setting the small tray down on the end of the bed, he sat down beside her. Bending, he slid his arms around her. "Now, just steady yourself and sit up slowly."

Slipping her legs over the edge of the bed, she laid her head against his shoulder and began to slowly pull herself into a sitting position. Turning herself slightly, she braced herself with an arm around his waist. Letting out the breath she'd been holding, she straightened herself. "There. That wasn't so bad."

"No, it wasn't." Letting go of her with one arm, he reached around and picked up the small plate of toast. Helping her to sit on her own, he took a piece of bread off the plate and offered to her. She shook her head.

"You do it," Orina said hoarsely.

Decamerone nodded. "Okay." He put the toast back down and tore off a piece, then placed it in her mouth. Their eyes met, and never looked away, as he fed her the toast and tea, each of them trembling slightly every time his fingers touched her lips.

"When you're a little stronger, you'll have to bathe," Decamerone said as he helped her lay back down.

Orina raised an eyebrow. "I smell that bad?" she asked dryly.

"No, of course not," he replied with a slight laugh. "I just think it'll help you feel a bit better." He carefully laid down beside her and put his arms around her. A contented half-smile spread across Orina's face as she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

"Ready to get cleaned up?" Decamerone asked her.

She nodded. "I think so."

He helped to stand, holding her carefully against himself. She tried to stand quickly, pretending she was stronger. A wave of dizziness overcame her though, and she fell forward. She felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest as she fell against him. For a few moments, he simply held her close, then helped her to walk to the bathtub.

Not saying a word, he sat her on the edge of the tub and carefully removed her nightgown. Then he helped her into the hot water that filled the tub. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as the warm liquid made contact with her skin. She closed her eyes, then opened them again as Decamerone slid into the water behind her.

"Thank you so much for taking care of me like this," Orina murmured as she slid backwards.

"You're very welcome," he replied softly. He picked up a bar of soap and rubbed it over his hands. Then he slowly spread the lather over her shoulders and back and washed her hair a bit too. Orina leaned back against him with a sigh. Then her eyes widened and she sat up a little straighter, laughing softly.

"Trying to take advantage of my weakened state, are you?" she asked teasingly, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.

"What do you mean?" he asked, blushing.

Orina giggled. "It's quite all right," she assured him as she slid around to face him. "More than all right, actually." She smiled. "It's supposed to be healing, in fact."

"Really?" the half-demon inquired, smiling at her.

"Indeed." Orina grinned wickedly and scooted closer to him. "Doctor Decamerone, I have a pain. Will you be so kind as to kiss it and make it feel all better?"

"I would be happy to," he murmured with a soft smile as he kissed her. Slipping his arms around her, he lifted her against him and carried her from the tub back into her bedroom.

Orina sighed deeply as the memories washed over her. She had so many, each one sweeter than the last. Seven years' worth of them. Wrapped up in remembering, she didn't see that Alyse was still sitting by her, or realize that she was crying again, warm tears running down her face.

"Orina, are you okay?" Alyse asked with concern, laying a hand on her shoulder. Orina jerked at the touch, her head whipping around sharply as she was jarred out of her reminiscing. She looked startled for a moment, then her lower lip trembled as she realized it was only Alyse. Bowing her head, she turned away, her shoulders shaking violently as she started sobbing again, pressing a hand over her mouth to muffle her anguished whimpering. Biting her lip, Alyse picked up the tray and left the room.

It was four more days before Alyse was able to successfully coax her into cleaning herself up, changing into fresh clothes, and actually leaving her room. She took care of her that whole time, bringing her food, letting her sob out her pain and misery on her shoulder.... and helping her with her morning sickness. It finally sank in to Orina the third time she got sick that she really was pregnant. She fell deeper into depression and grief after that, utterly devastated by the fact that she would have Decamerone's child, alone, never able to tell him.

Orina's hands shook as she closed and locked her door. She hadn't been out here since.... since that day. For a few painful minutes, she just stood there, trying not to cry and contemplating fleeing back inside her room. She finally shook herself out of it, telling herself that she had to face this sometime. Swallowing down the threatening tears, she turned around.

To find Ithonie standing there, an odd expression on her face. There was a new look in her eyes, flat and dead, and a little crazy. She smiled, a viper's chill grin with a bit of insanity mixed in. "Hello, Orina. Feeling any better today?" She laughed, a little crazily.

"I'm fine," Orina replied dully, though also somewhat wary. She'd never seen her sister like this. "You?"

"I'm great." Ithonie nodded, her smile widening. "Fabulous. How else should a bride-to-be, well, be?" She giggled, the sound a bit off, almost inhuman.

A pained look flashed across Orina's face, and she unconsciously twisted her ring on her finger. I was supposed to be a bride, too. But now.... She gulped. "Glad to hear it."

"Why, whatever is the matter, dear sister?" Ithonie asked with mock concern. She took a step closer, and Orina backed away slightly, not liking the look in her eyes. She's crazy.... by Zeal, she's really gone crazy. How....?

"Could it possibly be the death of your precious Decamerone?" Ithonie sneered, her pretty face twisting into an inhuman glare. "Poor, poor Orina," she mocked, continuing to advance, even as Orina sidestepped her and continued backing away. "Her lover died, and now she can't continue with her forbidden affair. Oh dear, oh dear."

"What?!" Orina gasped, a stunned look on her face. "How... how did you...?"

"How?" Ithonie spoke through gritted teeth. "Easy. I was out in the garden that night, listening as you oh-so-sweetly declared your love." Her tone was simpering, filled with disgust. "That was wrong. He should have been mine. But you stole him from me. You stole what was rightfully mine!" Her hands clenched into tight fists. "How dare you, you little tart?!"

Stepping towards her, Orina slapped her, hard. "Don't you ever say that to me again," she hissed. "And since when was he yours? He never showed any interest in you."

"I was interested in him!" Ithonie yelled, starting to cry. "I loved him! But he didn't love me! Only you! He should have loved me!"

"That's debatable," Orina sneered. "However, it doesn't change how he felt. And why are you so upset anyway? You've got Kezmet now."

"Oh, and what a prize he is!" Ithonie said sarcastically. "A hideous, sadistic demon who took advantage of me, lied to me, and hurt me!" She started crying harder, looking truly pathetic.

"What?" Orina froze as what Ithonie had said sank in. A demon? Decamerone had been right?

"Oh, you heard me!" Ithonie snapped. Wiping her eyes, she glared up at Orina. "He's a demon. I summoned him so I could get revenge for what was stolen from me." She smiled cruelly. "He's quite the ugly demon, wouldn't you agree?"

Something about the way she said it and the look on her face made Orina start to feel sick. "I wouldn't know.... I've never seen him in demon form."

"Oh, haven't you?" Ithonie laughed. "You've not only seen him, you begged him rather pitifully to end your life. I still don't get why he wouldn't, though. I would've." Ithonie wore an expression that was both a frown and a pout.

For several seconds, Orina just stood there, shocked and horrified, barely able to breathe, as it registered what Ithonie had told her. "That... that was... him?!" she gasped. "He killed..." Tears started to fill her eyes. "No...." she whispered weakly.

Ithonie nodded, a sadistic grin on her face. "Oh, yes," she replied. "He killed your beloved Decamerone. Why? Because I asked him to. That's right: me." Her look was one of grim satisfaction and cruel glee as she watched the horrible information sink in.

For several seconds, Orina could only stand there, staring dumbly ahead, frozen by Ithonie's awful revelation. Grief surged up inside her, quickly followed by fury and hatred. Shaking herself out of her daze, she saw that Ithonie had a dagger in her hand and was moving to attack her. She dodged the blade and grabbed Ithonie's wrists in a tight grip.

"You're going to die too," Ithonie hissed, her eyes filled with pure madness and hate. "You'll die for what you did to me, for what you took from me."

"I don't think so," Orina sneered. "Those are my lines you're reading. But, then again, this is no act. You will be the one to pay." Twisting the knife, she aimed for Ithonie's throat. Ithonie struggled, bringing the knife back upwards. She tried to point it back at Orina, but Orina was stronger than her and slashed the knife across her face. With a loud shriek, Ithonie dropped the knife and shoved Orina back. Orina slammed into the wall hard and slid down to the floor.

Her vision blurred from tears and the pain in her now-aching head, Orina could barely see Ithonie clutching her bleeding face. Seeing Orina weakened, she picked up the knife and started towards her again, ready to kill her.

Orina's vision cleared as her sister retrieved the dagger, and she realized that if she didn't do something, she would kill her. She tried to get up, but was too weak and dizzy. With a look of sadistic glee, Ithonie lunged towards her. Orina panicked. Had things been different, she might have let Ithonie kill her. But she couldn't. She had to protect the child within her, the only thing she had left from Decamerone. Ithonie had already taken him from her; she would not rob her of this as well.

Raising her hand, she whispered a spell. Bright red energy glowed around her fingertips, a simple yet deadly fire spell. She hurled the flaming orb at Ithonie's face. She tried to dodge it, but the flame slammed into the right side of her face, searing her skin and bursting her eye with the intense heat. Ithonie's bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the palace as she collapsed against the wall, clutching her burning face in an effort to douse the flames. The knife clattered to the floor once again, the sound lost in Ithonie's howls of pain.

The next thing Orina knew, she was being pulled up roughly off the floor and hauled away by palace guards. Everything was chaos as the palace residents tried to make sense of what happened. Ithonie was hysterical from the agony of the injuries Orina had inflicted, and passed out, unable to bear the pain any longer. She was carried off to the palace infirmary for medical attention, while Orina was taken to the dungeons and shoved rudely into a cell to await punishment for her deeds.

Curling into a ball to keep warm in her cold cell, Orina started to cry again, bitterly. How could her sister have done this to her? She wasn't the only person who had ever experienced unrequited love; why had she chosen to deal with it this way? She was not only insane, she was evil. She had taken away everything Orina had ever loved.

Well, almost everything. Orina laid a hand over her stomach. She wouldn't feel anything there for a few months yet, but she knew what was there: a child made by the love between her and Decamerone. She had to protect it. It was all she had left of him. She wouldn't see him ever again, not while she was living, but while she had this, a part of him was still with her. She wanted desperately to tell him, to experience it with him, but even if she couldn't, she was still glad she had this. Something to remember him by, even though it was a joy they should have shared. Because of Ithonie, they never would be able to share it.

Orina shook her head, wiping tears from her eyes even as more flowed forth. "I should have seen this coming," she whispered to herself. "Why didn't I? Why didn't I see the signs?" They had been there for the past two years, ever since that night they had first told each other they loved the other. She should've seen Ithonie's odd behavior for what it was, and been more wary. And she and Decamerone should have trusted his instincts about Kezmet. If they had, things could have been different now, she was sure of it.

Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and began to drift off. Reality faded away as the combination of exhaustion and grief took its toll and banished her from the waking world.

A little while later, she awoke screaming and shaking from a nightmare. She'd dreamed of Decamerone, but in her dream, he'd been dead, his eyes glassy, his body cold, holding her close in a deathly embrace.

"No.... oh no..." Orina whimpered, trembling. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the horrible image from her mind. "No.... why?" Tears spilled down her sheet-white face. The trauma of his death had obviously gone deeper than she thought. That day had been a nightmare in itself.... seeing his warm yellow eyes grow cool and glassy, feeling his hands chill as she held them..... the feel of his cold, still body pressed to her own, when it should have been as warm and alive as her own.... hearing him breathe his last.... She choked back a sob as the awful memories washed over her. She wanted so badly to forget that day -- to go to sleep and wake up and not remember it. To turn back time and erase it from existence and bring him forth from the Underworld to be with her once more, alive. But she could never do that. He was gone, and she was alone. Forever.

Shuddering with grief, she shut her eyes and went back to sleep, praying that she would be plagued with no further nightmares.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Decamerone whispered in Orina's ear.

"No," she moaned. "Let me sleep."

"You've already overslept," he said with a laugh.

"What's so funny?" she demanded crankily. "It's your fault -- you kept me up all night."

"Sorry."

Orina smiled up at him. "Don't be. I enjoyed it." Her smile grew wicked. "Like I would ever complain about you being up all night." She winked at him.

Decamerone blushed. "You have such an evil mind." He smiled. "And I love it." Bending, he kissed her. Orina sat up as he pulled back, slipping her arms around him and kissing him. He held her close, and they just sat there for several minutes, kissing.

"I just wish you could stay with me more often," she murmured as they pulled apart, but still holding each other close. Pressing her face to his shoulder, she stroked his long black hair. "I hate waking up alone."

"I wish I could, too," he whispered. "I hate leaving you." Turning his head, he kissed her temple, running his fingers through her dark hair. "I love you... and I hate hurting you... and I know it hurts you when I leave.... it gets more and more difficult every night. I don't think I can do it anymore. Leave, that is," he added, blushing. "I know very well how your wonderfully evil mind could take that."

Orina giggled against his shoulder. "Very true." Lifting her head, she kissed him softly. "I love you, too," she whispered. "And I know that the last thing you want to do is hurt me. So hearing this makes me very happy."

"Good," Decamerone said with a smile. "Because that's the first thing I want: you happy."

Hearing that made Orina want to cry, it was so sweet. Instead, she just smiled and kissed him again. He kissed her back, holding her tightly against him. His hands found the ties of the nightgown she had slipped into after he left to keep warm, and started to undo them. Sighing softly, she began to undo his clothes as well.

All of a sudden, a loud knock on the door startled them from their embrace.

"Who... who is it?" Orina called out, her heart pounding with the fear that they would be discovered.

"It's Captain Dalton," an all-too-familiar voice replied. Orina scowled. She couldn't stand the cowardly womanizer, who used his Golem creatures to fight all his battles for him and flirted hopelessly with every woman in sight.

"What do you want?" she asked irritably.

Dalton chuckled. "You already know the answer to that, cutie. Or if you want, let me in and I'll show you instead of telling you."

Decamerone growled at that. Orina hastily covered his mouth so that Dalton wouldn't hear him. "For the last time, you pervert, I'm not interested. Go away!"

"Sorry, honey, can't do that. The commander told me to tell you to get out to the courtyard for training right away. Best do what he says, sugar." He chuckled again, and she shuddered, able to imagine the leer on his face all too well. Decamerone growled deeper at that, the sound only partially muffled by her hand. She gave him a warning look and directed her attention back to the lecher outside her door.

"Tell him I'm running a bit of a fever and can't report. And knock off your stupid flirting already -- it's not going to get you anywhere."

"Fine, whatever," he huffed. She listened as his footsteps faded away down the hall, then removed her hand from Decamerone's mouth.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, irritated.

"Just what do you think would happen if he had heard you?" Orina hissed. "Everyone knows I don't keep a pet that sounds like that, and you're the only half-demon in all of Zeal. Do the math."

"I'd rather do this." Pulling her close, Decamerone kissed her again.

"A fever, huh?" he murmured as he finished the kiss. "I wonder how you got that?"

"You know how," she whispered, smiling wickedly as she kissed him.

"Now," he murmured, "where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"Well, I know I was here," Orina said as she slid onto his lap and slipped her arms around him.

"And I believe I was here," Decamerone replied as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

Orina sighed in her sleep, savoring the dreams of the sweet past. In her private dreamworld, she could relive the past and forget that the past week had happened. It was a nice place to be.

Three floors above, Ithonie moaned, half-asleep, half-awake, consumed by pain. The right side of her face was tightly wrapped in bandages, and another one stretched across her face where Orina had slashed her with the knife. Most of the hair on the right side of her head was gone; what wasn't was badly singed, and stank. Her hands were tightly bandaged as well, having sustained second-degree burns from putting out the flames on her face.

Suddenly Ithonie went very still. She couldn't see anything, having lost one eye and the other bandaged shut due to the cut on her face, but she knew someone had entered the room. And she knew who. She could tell by the sudden chill of the air, the tingle of fear that raced up her spine. Kezmet.

"Well, well." His smooth, inhuman voice was tinged with cold amusement. "Darling Ithonie, whatever has happened to you?"

"Don't call me that," Ithonie rasped, her voice filled with hatred. "Don't you ever call me that again."

Kezmet laughed. "I can call you whatever I like, dear." She listened with rising terror as his boots clicked softly on the floor, closer and closer, until he was standing right next to her. Through the bandage over her remaining eye, she could faintly see the shadow of him standing over her.

"Go away," she whimpered, well aware of how pathetic she sounded. "Leave me alone. You've already taken everything from me. Either kill me or leave me alone. Please..." Tears leaked from her eye, soaking through the bandage. Kezmet laughed again, and it was like a stab through her heart.

"How very silly you are, my dear," he purred. "I'm not done with you yet." Bending, he kissed her, letting his teeth scrape her lips. A muffled sob escaped her as their sharp points sliced through her dry lips. With a soft purr, he licked the blood from her mouth and pulled back.

"You are my toy, Ithonie," he continued. Taking one of her hands, he began to unwrap the bandages. "No longer quite such a pretty little toy, but a toy nonetheless. And like anyone would with any toy, I intend to play with you until you are broken." He leaned close to her again, and his sulfurous breath hissed in her face. "And break you I will. Never forget that, Ithonie." Pulling away again, he ripped the rest of the bandages from Ithonie's hand. She cried out, and he quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, his razor-sharp nails cutting into her face. She sobbed again, the bandage over her eye completely soaked with her tears of pain.