His gelding skids to a stop in the mud. “It seems you kept your word,” he says.
“I’m good for it.” My voice still sounds broken, and I try to breathe slowly. I don’t know where my father went, but at this exact moment I can’t decide if I’m hoping he’s gone off to find someone who will buy him a tankard of ale, or if it would be better for him to come take this message from Lord Alek so I don’t need to be a part of it anymore.
“I have another message for you to hold,” he says. “Lady Karyl will come for it in three days.”
I should demand more coins. I should ask questions about the content of these letters. I should dosomething.
All I can think about is the pain in my hand. I can hear my own breathing shaking.
“Fine,” I say.
Lord Alek extends the folded parchment to me. He doesn’t dismount from the horse—and he’s at least ten feet away.
I was wrong. This is worse than fishing coins out of the snow.
I find one of my crutches on the ground by the work table, and I get it under my right arm, then lever to standing. I feel sick, and there’s a good chance I might vomit in the snow. Everything about him disgusts me, from the way he glares down at me, to the casual marks of wealth and prosperity that seem like a mockery of everything I’m lacking.
When I make it to his side, I have to reach out with my injured hand, because the alternative is letting go of the crutch. I gingerly takehold of the parchment with the tips of my fingers, but it makes me wince anyway. I thrust it into my pocket.
He’s peering at me, those piercing eyes searching my face. “You look unwell.”
“I’m fine.” I eye the sword at his waist and wonder if I’m about to risk my neck. I wonder if it matters. If I can’t replace the silver that my father is taking, I might as well throw myself onto a blade.
I have to take a breath. “Holding a message for three days carries more danger than just one.”
His eyes narrow.
I clench my fingers on the crutch. “You yourself saw the King’s Courier in Briarlock,” I add.
“What are you playing at?”
“Ten silvers per day,” I say.
He looks like I just told him to swallow a lit coal. “Ten silvers!” he seethes. “You greedy little—”
“In addition to the twenty I require to pass the message.”
“I should kill you right now. I doubt anyone would care.”
“You could. And you’re probably right.”
He says nothing. I say nothing. I have nothing to lose.
Eventually, I endure the agony of pulling the parchment back out of my pocket. “Here. Find someone else to pass your treasonous notes.”
“I should kill you forthat.” His hand flickers toward his sword. “The Truthbringers are not acting against the queen. We seek to protect her from the harm magic will bring to Syhl Shallow. You haven’t seen the destruction wrought on Emberfall, the way this king used his powers to rise from nothing and claim the throne. You don’t see the way he shares magic with his inner circle, for their benefit alone. You didn’t see the monster he created, or the way our people were casually slaughtered during the Uprising.”
I go still. I do know about that.
He must see the change in my expression, because he settles back in the saddle. “If you think you’re bargaining silver fortreason, then that says more about you than it does about me.”
I don’t like the way those words make me feel.
I do know I need silver.
“Fifty silvers,” I finally say. There’s a part of me that hopes he’ll refuse. That we can be done with this. “Fifty, or you can have your message back.”
He glares down at me, and similar to the day Lady Karyl brought me the first note, I realize that whatever is inside this message must beveryimportant. I passed the first message and didn’t say a word about it—surely that makes me less of a risk than finding someone new.
