I walk away from the bonfire, knowing the general direction of where the carriage is, knowing the tent won’t be far off. All I want to do is crawl into my pallet and sleep, but I can’t. Not yet.
I need to always remember who I’m with. I need to stay on track and not let Rip get under my skin.
I let my feet follow my eyes as a new determination fills me.
The tents I pass by are like a patchwork of leather sewn into the snow, every footstep a stitch. I walk past the gathered horses, their breaths huffing out like smoke, noses nuzzling into bales of hay. There’s a launder tent not far off, where soldiers are scrubbing soiled clothes and brushing black wax over scuffed boots.
No one bothers me aside from a few lingering glances, but I keep my eyes averted. My face is cold even with my hood pulled up, the snow already beginning to pile onto the top of the tents, soaking into the fabric and making the scent of wet leather fill the air.
I’ve found that some smells are strings tied around memories. When you catch certain scents, those strings pull taut. Like a boat being brought to dock, forced to float in the sentiment. Unfortunately for me, wet leather does not moor me with a nice memory.
Wet leather. Not dampened by snow, but by the saliva on my tongue, soaking up my taste and voice. Strips torn from Divine knows what. I was too afraid to spit it out.
Is that memory going to merge with what’s happening now? Wet leather changing from the gag to the cloying scent of Fourth’s tents saturated with snow?
My thoughts swirl and fall.
My king loves me.
Indeed. Loves you so much he keeps you in a cage.
A deep frown pulls my eyebrows together, but I banish Rip’s echoing words.
His aim is to drive a wedge between Midas and me, so I can’t for a second believe he truly just wants to talk. He’s a strategist. Anenemystrategist, trying to trick me into switching sides, trying to loosen my tongue.
Which is why I need to find that messenger hawk. I need to find it, send a warning to Midas, and then Rip will know how solid my loyalty is. No matter how respectful and conversational he pretends to be, I have to remember the truth.
“He’s an arrogant, devious bastard,” I mutter beneath my breath.
“Sure hope you’re not talking about me, my lady.”
I whip my head to the left, finding Hojat turned in profile. He’s looking down, stirring a pot of something over a small campfire. The scarred part of his face looks a deeper pink tonight, like the cold is bothering the contorted skin.
No one else is around to share his fire, but as soon as I get a whiff of whatever he’s cooking, I understand why.
I hold my hand over my nose and mouth before I start gagging. “Great Divine, what isthat?”
He doesn’t even look up from mixing. “Wormwood, bishopwort, cattle cartilage, and a few other odds and ends.”
My nose wrinkles. “It smells…” I stop short when he looks over at me. “Umm...it smells pungent,” I finish, barely stopping myself from saying what I really mean. Awful. Disgusting. Completely rancid.
I honestly have no idea how he’s leaning over it so closely, letting that foul steam waft in his face like that. “Does it? That’s probably the bit of boiled intestines. It can be quite strong.”
This time, I can’t stop the gag that presses on the back of my tongue and cinches my throat. I gulp some air, keeping my eyes averted from the pot. “Why are you making that, exactly?”
“It’s a new mixture I’m trying out to treat aches and pains.” He suddenly straightens up and faces me, a gleam in his drooping eye. “Would you like to be my test subject?”
My mouth pops open. “You want someone todrinkthat?” I can’t keep the horrified tone out of my voice.
“Course not, my lady. I’m going to cook it down to be a topical ointment.”
I can’t blink, because my mind is too busy picturing him rubbing around boiled cartilage and intestines. If my skin wasn’t gold, it would be turning green right about now.
Hojat is still looking at me expectantly, and I realize he’s actually waiting for my answer.
“Oh, umm, maybe next time?”
A look of disappointment flashes over his expression, but he nods. “Of course, my lady. I see your lip has improved.”
