“It’s hard as steel,” she said, kneading it like a cat.
“What it was in this…tonic?”
“Valderion root and passionflower and essence of fosna. Lesna. Something-na.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I feelquiterelaxed.”
“It seems that way,” he said.
“Only,” she continued, “I have the most peculiar sensation.” Saga paused, reaching for the niggling thought, dangling just out of her reach. “I believe I was meant to do something, yet I cannot recall. Doyouknow what it was, Rurik?”
“Kass,” he corrected. “And no. I’m afraid I do not know it. But I wished to apologize to you.”
“Apologize?” Saga laughed. The very idea was humorous.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “For what I said in gallery. I have…disobedient tongue. Often it speaks without permission. I should not have said that to you.”
But Saga was lost deep in thought, trying to recall what, precisely, she was meant to be doing.
Rurik cleared his throat. “I see today your birds are on gloves?—”
“Bird!” Saga exclaimed, clapping a hand to her mouth. “The falcons!” It rushed back to her in an instant—the messages, the wax sealer nestled inside her bodice. And without excusing herself, she turned to flee. But she made it only a few steps before stumbling to the side. Rurik was there, his arm sliding around her, holding her steady.
“Easy, Lady Saga,” he said softly. “You must lie down. Let me help you to your chambers.”
But Saga clutched his arm tightly. “Falconry tower,” she asserted, trying to wrangle her flailing thoughts. Now that she had the memory, she could not let it slip free. “I must get to the falconry tower.”
“You barely can be walking,” he protested.
“Youoweme, Rurik,” she hissed, distantly aware it was far too bold.
He frowned. “And I will take you to yourchambers, Lady Saga.”
“Falconry tower,” Saga repeated. “Take me there, and I’ll…I’ll accept your apology.”
Rurik’s face drew into a scowl as he pondered her proposition. “Very well,” he relented at long last, directing her toward the exit. “I will do you this favor, and then we might be friends. Come, lean on my shoulder, yes, there.”
She put her head on his shoulder, a scent hitting her nose—fresh and herbal, like sage or perhaps, juniper. “You smell good.”
He chuckled softly. “I see this tonic is making you feel very free. Your feet must be answering. Now tell them to step. Good, yes.”
She felt him moving forward, pulling her with him, and her feet moved quickly to keep up. They entered a windowless corridor lit by wall-mounted torches, firelight dancing along the ancient stone walls. The dark corridors only made Saga’s eyelids grow heavier. She blinked a few times, trying to keep them open, but they just wanted to close.
Rurik snorted. “Usually I treat a lady to supper before she falls asleep on shoulder.”
Eisa, Saga reminded herself, desperate to stay awake.Eisa is in danger!She’d waited many days for this opportunity and could not ruin it. Saga leaned against Rurik’s sturdy form, her arm sliding around his back. She tried not to think of the muscles bunching and releasing just beneath her fingers.
The sound of approaching voices had Saga’s feet slowing. “We cannot be seen,” she mumbled. “’Twould be…improper.” Whirling them around to get her bearings, her gaze collided with Harald the Hard’s. His cold eyes stared at her from the threads of a tapestry, longsword held aloft as he prepared to plunge it into the King of Norvaland’s chest. And with that, Saga knew how to avoid detection. “This way.”
Rurik let out a deep sigh. “Will you tell to me where you are taking us?”
But Saga was busy counting out the stones. When she reached twelve, she stared at the wall in search of the right stone—one that was incrementally smaller than the rest. Spotting it, she pushed with the heel of her hand.
Nothing happened.
The voices were louder now—a pair of women, and gods, the voices belonged to members of the queen’s retinue. She could not let it reach the queen’s ears that she was alone in Rurik’s company. Gritting her teeth, Saga put her whole body’s weight against it, pushing with all her might.
Beside her, Rurik cleared his throat. “I think I should be taking you to your?—”
His voice broke off at the sound of stone scraping against stone. Saga felt the latch click before a doorway swung inward.
