“Listen!” Benson hissed. He wiped a hand across his mouth and Croak could not remember a time when he’d ever seen Benson in such a state. He shook from head to toe and looked as white as a corpse.
Benson took a deep breath. “Yer sister’s been arrested.”
Croak blinked. “What now?”
“She’s been arrested, boy!” Benson said, his voice breaking. “She—she—on suspicion of murderin’ Prince Lerek.”
Croak’s mouth dropped open as the blood drained from his face. He sobered up quickly. “What?”
Benson nodded his head repeatedly, wringing his weathered hands. He wiped his mouth again and continued. “An’ fer th’ attempted murder of Prince Isher.”
Croak’s knees buckled, and he dropped to the wood floor. “Wha?—”
Benson rushed over and grabbed Croak’s arm, shaking him. “No time for that, boy! They mean to try her an’ execute ‘er in two days!”
Croak shook all over. His mind tried to make sense of what the old smith was saying but he couldn’t make his mind keep up. He fought through the haze of booze to focus on Benson’s words.
Lerek dead.
That was unreal enough. But that Terena had killed him was too much for him to process.
His head throbbed and Croak hunched over, his forehead resting on the cool floor as Benson continued to shake him. He mumbled something at the old man, hoping to get him to stop, batting at his beefy hand ineffectually.
“For Sassia’s sake, son! Get yer arse up! Wash yerself an’ I’ll ‘ave Ditta bring ya up some mulled cider an’ bread. Soak some of that ale outta ya.”
Croak moaned and fell over onto his side. Eyes closed against the painful light, he heard the old man rise and grumble his way out ofthe room. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady the pounding in his head.
Lerek dead.
Terena accused.
Lerek dead.
Soft, muling cries turned to heavy sobs, wracking Croak’s body. He curled into himself, drawing his knees to his chin as he ground his head into the floor.
“Come now, come now,” Benson said a short time later. His rough voice, for once, sounded almost soothing as he bent his big frame low and scooped up Croak’s limp body like a baby.
He carried him the few steps to the bed and Croak realized someone else was in the room. Shuffling sounded on the other side of the bed and someone whispered to Benson. The old man replied, but Croak was too broken to care. He let the old smith prop pillows behind his head and shift him about without protest.
“Bring me that cup,” Benson said and Croak caught sight of a slight arm as it crossed in front of his blurry eyes. Something was at his lips and the old man murmured to him, but a fresh wave of memories assailed him and he succumbed once more to despair.
“Lerek,” he sobbed, that one word making Benson stiffen and stop his ministrations.
“I know,” Benson answered, and tried again to coax Croak to drink. He turned his head away and tried to raise a hand in protest.
“Come, now, y’ must at least try,” Benson cajoled. He heard the rustle of fabric to his right and then a soft voice saying something about more cider and a bowl of fresh water. Benson muttered a response and before long, they were alone.
The bed gave as Benson sat and braced his arm across Croak, bringing his face uncomfortably close to his.
“Listen, now, shhhhh, shhhh,” Benson crooned and slapped gently at Croak’s cheek. “Y’must push this down, far down now boy, so as y’can focus on yer sister.”
Croak turned his face away and sniffed back snot.
“Boy, I ken how y’ feel, I do,” Benson said, his voice softer thanCroak had ever heard and perhaps the reason it pierced through Croak’s fog. “Ye must think of yer sister. Terena. Terena is th’ most important thin’ right now. An’ ye must get ‘er free.”
Croak focused on the old man’s lips as they moved in a litany:Think of Terena. She is all that matters now. Get her free, boy.
“How?” Croak whispered, his voice breaking. “How do I free her and I don’t even fucking know what’s going on?”
