Elsbeth turns to peruse my bookshelf. She pulls out a thin book I don’t remember owning and turns around, leafing through the pages as she talks. “So, you’re going after her?” she asks.
One handed, I lift the corner of my mattress and grab the pistol I stashed there. “Yes.” Then over to the overstuffed chair. I’m fairly certain I hid a small boot knife there. I stuff my hand into the seam between the cushion and the frame and feel around.
“And Troi is alright with this?”
I huff out a breath and shake my head. Was she listening to our conversation? “Not exactly.”
“Aemon.” She snaps the book shut. “You go against his orders, and he’s going to have you hanged.
I check the other side. Where is that gods damned knife? “That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
She draws back, giving me the side-eye. “You can’t be serious.”
“You and I both know she had nothing to do with the queen’s assassination. Got it,” I say, finally pulling the sheathed dagger from between the seat cushions.
“Of course, but—”
I put my foot up on the chair and shove the dagger into the strap sewn onto the inside of my boot. “If I leave her to Fredrick and his lackies, they’ll rape, torture and kill her before she ever makes itback to the palace. I can’t let that happen.” I turn back to the bed and continue packing.
“Aemon.” She rests a hand on my arm. “I like her too, but this—” She gestures to my bags. “You’re really willing to risk your life, to chase after a girl you hardly know?”
“Yes.” That’s all I give her because I don’t have a better reply. It’s fucking crazy and I know it, but there is no way I’m leaving her to Fredrick. Maybe I could kill him and claim he had been injured when— No. That would just put a bigger price on her head.
Elsbeth sets the book down on the bed and, ducking to meet my eyes, asks, “Tell me why?”
I pause my packing to knead the back of my neck where I can feel a headache already budding. “I don’t know.” And that’s the truth.
“Is something going on with you two?” Damn female. She’s the worst combination of nosy and insightful.
Again, I reply, “I don’t know.”
Elsbeth nods like that’s an answer she can accept, but her eyes are still creased with worry.
I sigh. “I’m his oldest friend, Elsbeth. Shit, I’m his only friend. I know he’ll be pissed, but he won’t have me killed.” I spin around and head for the bathing chamber.
“Are you sure about that?” she calls after me.
No. “Yes.” I snatch up my toothbrush and pot of paste, then rush back into the bedroom.
“Alright,” she says, picking the book back up and clutching it to her chest. “I’ll try to talk to him—”
“No,” I say, pointing my toothbrush at her before shoving it into my bag. “You stay as far away from him as possible. I don’t want him taking this out on you.”
“Don’t you worry about me. I can handle Troi.”
“By drugging his bourbon, you mean?”
To her credit, she doesn’t even flinch. “We all do what we must to survive.”
“Well, try to survive until I get back.
She scoffs and starts for the door. “Says the person obviously intent on getting himself killed.”
19
Sometimes even I’m shocked at my level of stupidity. Imagine spending all that time searching the city for supplies only to forget one very crucial item: water.
Oh, I have the waterskin. Problem is, it’s empty. I certainly can’t go back, so I just have to hope I find some water along the way. That is, if I’m going in the right direction. I’m not exactly a great navigator here. I know I need to head south, and I understand that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, but beyond that… I haven’t got a clue. And now that it’s starting to hit midday, there is a very distinct possibility I’m going to end up headed the wrong way.
