“Now, dear,” the maester said, turning with a clay cup in hand. “This will make you braver. Try this today, and we shall meet again. On, now, drink it up, then try to get some sun on your face.”
Saga accepted the cup. “My thanks.”
…yes, yes, on with it, thought Alfson, retrieving a key and sliding it into the padlock on his desk drawer. Must pen this letter to the Wolf Feeders first thing. Bother managing this search from the south, we ought to send the Black Cloak…
That last thought held Saga immobile. He would send word to the Wolf Feederstoday, not in two days. She felt as though her mind was no longer connected to her body, but floating somewhere above it.
Watching with wide eyes, Saga brought the cup to her mouth and tipped the liquid down her throat. Alfson had pulled the padlock aside. Was staring into the drawer.
…I distinctly told Gorm to fetch the wax sealer from Lady Geira,he thought, moving the quills and ink pots around.This is Gorm’s second blunder today alone. One more and he’ll be out of chances…
With a long, slow exhale, Saga placed the empty cup on Alfson’s desk.
Already, she could feel the tonic at work. Much like an egg cracked over her head, it dripped down her neck and shoulders, loosening the knots of tension wherever it touched. Oh…it waswonderful.
“We may have to adjust the dose,” said Maester Alfson, eyeing her. “But ’tis a good start. Now, go.”
Saga nodded, standing. She hoped Alfson attributed her quivering body to the effects of the tonic but did not wait for him to comment.
Turning on her heel, Saga fled from the room.
Chapter Seventeen
Svangormr Pass,thought Saga, hand skimming along the stone walls.Eisa was seen in Svangormr Pass…
She pushed deeper down the corridor, passing tapestries, busts and that awful taxidermied bear. Saga scowled at the poor thing. It belonged in the wilds, with the birds and wolves and wildflowers, not stuffed with wool and posed in this dark, musty corridor. Saga looked down, realizing her feet had paused.
Eisa, she reminded herself, forcing them forward. Gods, but her thoughts were like water, slipping through her mind before she could grasp them.And she was light as a cloud, floating down the hallway. She feltgood. Gods, she felthappy. What a strange, foreign sensation it was, like the first few seconds after sliding into a hot bath. Saga pressed a hand to her lips, surprised to find them spread wide in a smile.
She looked down. Her feet had stopped again. Turning around, she examined her surroundings—a high-ceilinged landing with two arched doorways leading off. She knew this place, and the clash of swords from beyond the doorway only confirmed it. Saga stepped to the window, peering into the sparring grounds. Washethere amongst them, taunting the Klaernar and playing for the crowd?
“Lady Saga,” came a voice from behind her, making her jump in fright.
Saga whirled to face the man in question. How did he know she’d been thinking of him? “You,” she blurted. “Did you read my thoughts?”
Arms crossed over his chest, Rurik leaned casually against a shadowed arch, watching her with those eyes. Green like ferns…or poison ivy. But the longer she looked, the more Saga thought they were more like the green eyes of a mountain cat—the kind you wouldn’t dare turn your back to.
Thankfully, Rurik ignored her question. “Many days now I’ve wanted to speak with you.”
Saga stared at the cleft in his chin. It appeared he’d shaved just this morning, the hints of a beard battling back. “What are you doing here?” she said dazedly.
His brows drew together. “I think better question is whyyouare at sparring grounds, Lady Saga?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. She’d been on her way to complete a task, yet she’d forgotten entirely what it had been. It nagged at her, this important thing just out of her grasp.
“Something is”—he paused, mountain cat eyes assessing—“not regular with you. Are you well?”
“Verywell,” Saga replied, turning to look through the window. “The best I’ve ever been!” She could feel him puzzling over her, and so she continued. “I took a tonic.” Saga leaned in, whispering loudly, “for my nerves.”
“What is this…tonic?”
“Tohn-eek,” Saga repeated, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. “Say it again!”
“Now I know you are not…regular,” Rurik said, eyeing her. “What is this? You are drinking something? You aredrunk?”
A cough from down the hall had her grasping his forearm in surprise. Saga stared down, adding her other hand and trying to encircle it. It was so thick her thumbs could not touch. “What do you have in here? Iron plates?”
“Is my arm,” he said, amused.
