Her heart threatened to burst through her ribcage now. ‘Yes.’
His gaze fell to her lips, lingered there for a long moment, and then he stepped back out into the corridor. ‘Then let’s go.’
She took a moment to drift back down from wherever she had floated off to, then joined him in the light. She found herself unable to look up at him. ‘If there was another way, I would do that instead.’
He nodded, hands on his hips. ‘You don’t have to explain. I get it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it though.’ He gestured for her to start walking.
She obeyed. This time when they walked, she had to lengthen her stride to keep up, and her feet hit the floor out of time with his.
Chapter 23
While the carcass was being skinned and butchered, Lyndal tried to convince Wallis, the kitchen maid, to join her on a quest to the merchant borough.
‘The king said I could ask the staff for help,’ Lyndal said when Wallis responded with “No way.”
Wallis continued chopping onions. ‘So ask someone who wants to go.’
Lyndal glanced over at Astin, who was leaning in the doorwaynotlooking at her, then returned her attention to the maid. ‘When was the last time you left the royal borough? Don’t you miss the hustle of the merchant borough?’
‘I heard there are dead bodies on the street.’
‘Bodies that will have likely been collected by the time we get there.’ Not her strongest argument but worth pointing out. ‘And you have the opportunity to be part of the solution. Fewer dead bodies tomorrow because of your good deed today.’
Astin coughed—his only contribution.
Wallis picked up a turnip and washed it in a bowl of water. ‘I’ve got enough work to do here.’
Lyndal tried another approach. ‘I understand. I’ll ask someone else. The king might have some fresh suggestions for me.’
When she went to turn away, Wallis stopped her.
‘Wait.’ She let out a resigned breath. ‘Are the rumours true? About you and the king?’
Lyndal backed away from the bench. ‘I’m really not at liberty to speak about it.’
‘Fine. I’ll do it. But you better remember this good deed if those rumours prove true.’ She placed the knife down, hands going to her hips. ‘What do you need?’
A smile spread across Lyndal’s face. ‘I’m going to need some very large pots and as many vegetables as you can spare.’
Lyndal did not know how to fix what had broken between her and Astin that morning. He walked beside the wagon, still refusing to look at her. Acknowledging feelings of any kind seemed like a bad idea, but pretending the conversation had never happened did not seem helpful either.
‘So serious, defender,’ she said. ‘Any potential threats identified?’ If humour did not work, she could always throw a piece of onion at him.
No response.
‘We haven’t even left the borough yet. What could possibly have you so preoccupied?’
His gaze drifted in her direction. ‘We’re in shooting range of the wall, and you’re an easy target right now.’
She refused to let him spook her. ‘Are you suggesting there’s a defender atop the wall who wishes me dead?’
‘Any one of those men has the skill to carry it out on another’s behalf.’
That shut her up.
She glanced nervously up at the wall, then behind her to the six cast-iron pots filled with meat and vegetables. There were another two filled with bones and organs, as well as an assortment of bowls and spoons. She decided to focus on the task ahead.
When they passed through the gate into the square, Astin’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. He signalled something to the other defenders who had travelled with them, and they dispersed.
