“That miserable old thief!” Alys rushed to her feet. “I’ll get it back for you Piers, I swear. I’ll—”
He held his right hand up slightly from the ticking. “Alys,” he whispered.
“No! He cannot think to take advantage of you while he has us both as little more than his prisoners! How dare he?” Alys seethed.
“Alys,” Piers said, raising his voice to a raspy hark. He fell into a coughing fit, and Alys rushed back to her knees, her hand supporting his back.
“I’m sorry, Piers—I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” She tried to think what her sister, Cecily, would do in this situation. When he began to calm, she reached for a hollowed gourd resting in a bucket of water. “Here, have a drink to soothe your throat.”
“Thank you.”
She replaced the dipper, pleased that she had done something right for once. Piers leaned back onto the ticking, his face pale save for the two scarlet patches on his sunken cheeks. Alys could see the sheen of sweat through the stubble on his jaw and neck.
“Will you still carry on with me to London?”
Alys swallowed, tried to quell the rush of emotion she felt. “To London, yes. To the very ends of the earth, Piers. Even should we fall off the edge and land in God’s palm, with you is where I want to be.”
He turned his head to look at her. “Why?”
It was too soon, Alys knew. He would think that she was still the spoiled child he accused her of being, rushing to cling to him. But Alys knew how dire his condition was, and how it was equally as likely that he would die in this wood rather than carry on. She wanted to tell him how she felt in her heart. And he needed to hear it, whether he believed her or nay.
“Because I love you, Piers.”
He turned his face back to the ceiling and was silent for several moments, his chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths. “Will you do something for me?”
He hadn’t returned the sentiment, and in truth, Alys hadn’t expected him to. It was enough that he had not chided her for speaking the words aloud.
“Anything,” she insisted.
She saw his throat work as he swallowed and forced the raspy words past his lips. “Find the old man.”
“Yes, alright. I have a few coins left in my bag—shall I buy your ring back from him?”
He looked at her once more, his eyes full of dumbfounded accusation. “You have money?”
“Not much, but yes.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
Alys gave him a smile. “You didn’t ask.”
He gave a short sigh. “No. Ask him not of the ring. Just send him to me. Alone. I need to speak with him alone.”
Alys winced. “Are you certain that’s wise? He’s a stranger to you, Piers. And he’s obviously already upsetyou greatly this morn. You need your rest.” She didn’t trust the old man any farther than she could pitch his stringy body from the tree. Less, actually.
“He won’t harm me,” he said solemnly. “Will you send him to me?”
Alys thought a moment before answering. “Yes. Yes, I will do as you ask.” She hesitated at first, but then let her fingers slide beneath his palm. She squeezed.
Piers’s fingers twitched weakly. But that was all.
“Shall I go now, or would you rest a while first?”
“Now. Better to get it over with.” He turned his face to hers. “I know I might die, Alys.”
She shook her head, fought the tears that threatened. She squeezed his hand again. “No. Linny said—”
“Likely a great deal more than you are telling me,” he finished for her. “Working a farm, I understand the seriousness of a blood fever better than most would. I promise I shall do my best to improve, though.”
