“It’s usually customary to escort a lady around the gardens at least once.”
“Even when that lady is your competition?”
“There is an etiquette to combat for a reason.” Olivin smiled, still holding out his arm yet somehow not making it awkward in the process. “I’m here to win, not make enemies.” This presentation of himself as the gentleman was in stark contrast to the man who held a dagger to her throat. Which was real and which was the show? Or perhaps, much like Princess Vi, they were both sides of the same coin.
He was lord and shadow.
“I think I’ll be fine without a formal escort.”
“Very well.” Olivin nodded gracefully and started to the right. Eira watched him leave. The bunching of the fabric of his robes around his neck reached the strands of his hair. There was more to him offering to escort her. Olivin did fewthings unintentionally. She abandoned her glass and strode over, falling into step at his side. “I thought you didn’t want an escort?”
“I want to know what you have to say.”
“What makes you think I have anything to say? Perhaps I just want to comment on the fine wine.” He slowed to a stop.
“You don’t do anything by chance. You sought me out for a reason.”
Olivin extended his arm once more. “So I did.”
Eira assessed it briefly. She met his eyes as her fingers slid into the crook of his elbow. Olivin began walking again, setting a slow pace. His eyes were constantly scanning everyone around them. Eira did the same, getting a quick sense of who could be listening.
“You’re not the only one who’s made use of this party for their own means,” he said softly. “I’ve been hunting my own information.”
“About what?” She didn’t think he would proffer that morsel if he wasn’t going to tell her about the whole meal.
He hesitated. It was odd to see someone who was usually so confident appear insecure. “It’s a personal matter.”
“Are you all right?”
“I am, but I’m worried about my teammate.”
“Yonlin, right?” Eira had noticed he wasn’t among Meru’s competitors this morning. Fritz had said he’d be back in time for the individual tournament. Had he been thinking that was today? Or had he meant in a few days?
Olivin nodded. “He still hasn’t returned.”
17
Warning bells were instantly ringing in her mind, as they no doubt had been for Olivin all night. “Have you heard any word?”
Olivin nodded grimly as they turned around the pavilion Cullen and his father had been speaking in earlier. It was now empty. An attendant bustled past them, clearing a platter of dirty, small plates they’d begun passing around. It was an attendant she’d seen earlier, not someone new. She was beginning to learn their faces.
“I managed to find your friend from Solaris earlier, Fritznangle—Fritz. He said that Yonlin’s wounds were more severe than expected and they were fighting an infection that’s now raging through his body.” There was skepticism in Olivin’s voice. Judging from the pull of the muscles by his chin, Olivin was actively fighting to keep his face from falling into a scowl. She could feel his bicep tense under her fingers. He was surprisingly strong for his lithe frame.
“Fritz wouldn’t lie to you.” Eira gave his arm a light squeeze. “Have you gone to visit him?”
Olivin shook his head. “Fritz said that Yonlin has been sequestered to prevent others from falling ill. Only one of the clerics is treating him.”
“And it’s not Fritz.” Eira knew it wouldn’t be. This sounded well beyond her uncle’s scope of healing.
“No, when I asked him if he’d seen Yonlin, he said he hadn’t. Just more notes from that desk.”
This was appearing worse by the second. “Have you spoken to Yonlin through a door? Have you seen him through a window?”
“No.”
Eira bit her lip. “I know I said Fritz wouldn’t lie to you—and I really believe he wouldn’t…but if he was being lied to…” Eira shook her head. “He’s not the best at deciphering fact from fiction, especially if the lie comes from a source he’d otherwise trust.”
“You know this Fritz person pretty well.”
