“Tessa?”
“What were you writing to her earlier? Could you convinceher?”
I look back at Ford. “I need paper and a pen. I’m going to give you a message to send back.”
He gives me the supplies, and I spend less than a minute writing. I fold the paper in half and hand it to him. “Send him that. Then he’ll believe it’s me.”
He unfolds it and reads it, and his body gives a sharp jolt. His eyes flash to mine, and his cheeks flush. “I absolutely will not send this.”
“Do you want me to kill you instead? Lina and Mouse are waiting in the alley.”
He huffs a breath. “Fine.But you will have to return at nightfall,three days hence. I don’t have a ship leaving for Fairde again until daybreak tomorrow.”
Three days.My jaw twitches. We’re so close that I can feel it.
But there’s nothing I can do about the delay.
“Fine.” I look at Lochlan. “We’re done here.”
Once we’re outside again, he all but pokes me in the arm. “What on earth did you write that made him so angry?” he demands.
“I said, ‘It’s me, you arrogant prick.’ ”
“Nice opening.”
“Thank you. Then I said, ‘Tell Tessa I’m alive. Tell her I said, “Mind your mettle.” Ask her if it’s really me. You’ll have your answer.’ ”
Lochlan glances at me. “You think that will work?”
As usual, I have a glimmer of hope that’s matched by a wash of fear, because Rian could crumple this up and not tell Tessa anything at all. But I’m banking on his altruistic desire to help his people. At the end of the day, he stillneedsKandala.
And I don’t need to feed more worries to Lochlan.
So I give him a nod. “I know it will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tessa
Erik sleeps all the way through to the next morning. I’ve checked on him twice, but his breathing is slower, and there’s no sign of fever whatsoever. When I come back in from feeding the animals and practicing with the dagger, he’s standing in the kitchen barefoot, blinking in the morning sunlight. He’s shirtless again, but I’m gratified to see that there’s no redness surrounding the bandage today, no sweat on his brow.
“You’re awake!” I say in surprise.
He winces and rubs at his eyes. “Oh. Oh, that’s loud.”
His voice is so rough, and I bite my lip. “A bit hungover?” I whisper.
“Hmm. How much did I drink?”
“Olive was the one pouring it down your throat, but I think it was most of the bottle.”
“Thewholebottle?” he exclaims, but then he winces again.
“It was either that or tie you down.”
He frowns. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all. You’ve gotquitethe vocabulary, though.” I light the stove under the kettle and pull what’s left of the loaf of bread from the basket on the counter. “I learned a few new phrases I’ll be trying on Rian later. How do you feel? You look better.”
