“Ah, yes,” the attendant said, his grin knowing. “I have three daughters. Shopping, it is very important.”
She thanked him again profusely, and said she’d return if the cab didn’t arrive immediately, but it took another full minute to convince the man that she really and truly needed some fresh air.
By the time she got out of the building, Ari was nowhere to be found. Fran started up the road, walking fast, and within about a minute a taxi crested a small rise ahead of her. She flagged it down and practically leaped the back seat, speaking fast.
“You speak English? Yes? Did you see a man on the road, probably staggering, maybe looking drunk? Holding his head like this?”
The cabbie’s eyes widened as she demonstrated, and he nodded several times. “He did not hurt you?” he asked, instantly outraged.
“No! No, he’s my friend, he’s very sick, not drunk. I have to help him, get him back to our hotel. Where did you see him—?”
The taxi driver frowned at her. “I thought you had to go to the airport?”
Anger snapped hard in Fran’s gut, but she flashed the man her most desperate smile. “I couldn’t very well tell the security guard that I’d lost my boyfriend, could I? He would have thought I was crazy. But—could you help me? Please?”
Whether she truly sounded as frantic as she felt, the taxi driver shrugged and wheeled the car around, heading back up the road. By the time they surged over the small hill again, Fran was almost in the front seat herself, leaning forward.
“There! That man, there. Oh my God, that’s him.”
“You sure he’s not drunk?” the driver said skeptically, but he slowed the car.
“He’s not—his head, he gets terrible migraines. Headaches.” She resisted the urge to pound her own head with her hand, and instead pulled out a thick wad of euros. “I have enough money to get us back to the city—our hotel—and a big tip for you if you’ll wait while I get him in the car? You don’t have to help. I know he seems out of it.”
“Bah! Of course I will help.” The man’s mood shifted, either because of the money or because the entire country of Garronia really was full of chivalrous men, and he cruised slowly to where Ari sat hunched over. Fran was out of the car almost before it stopped, but she caught herself immediately. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to move slowly, carefully toward Ari.
“Ryker?” she said, and Ari groaned, shaking his head in confusion.
“Honey, we need to go now,” she continued. “I have a cab for us, and we can get you something for your headache.”
Ari blurted a string of words in Garronois, and the taxi driver stiffened. “He says the bastard tried to kill him.”
“He did! Well.” Fran’s smile grew a little strained. “He’s in a great deal of pain, I think.”
The man snorted and she tried again. “Honey, can you hear me? It’s Francesca. Could we—I’m coming up to you now to help you. I’m here to help.”
She took the final step and, swallowing, laid a hand on Ari’s shoulder, her entire body poised for flight. To her shock and relief, he didn’t lash out, but peered up at her, his entire face haggard. “Help?” he rasped in English, and she didn’t hesitate. There was no recognition in his eyes, but no fight either.
“Help—yes.” She slid his arm over her shoulder and looked at the driver. “Can you try to explain? Normally his English is very good.”
The man hastened up to her and drew Ari’s other arm around his neck as well, and together the two of them muscled him toward the cab. He was bigger than she remembered him, but that was what dead weight would do to a body. She’d dragged more than a few drunks across the floor of Bert’s Bar & Grill, so she knew from experience.
When they were almost to the taxi, Ari finally found his feet, and half stumbled the rest of the way into the back seat as Fran held the door as far open as it would go. As soon as she slammed it behind him, she raced around to the other side. “I swear, if he gets sick or does any damage to your vehicle, I’ll pay you three times the fare. I am so grateful—”
“Enough, enough!” the man was half-laughing now as he slid behind the wheel, though Ari lolled back crazily in his seat and sagged against the far window. “I will get you where you need to go. He is lucky enough to have you by his side, eh?”
Whether Ari heard the man’s words or simply was responding to her nearness, he reached out and grabbed one of Francesca’s hands. His own hand was on fire and she brought it to her face, laying the back of it along her cheek as she braced his forearm against her. She gave the cabbie the address of their small hotel, and as the night drew down they bounced back through the streets of the city, Ari continuing to mutter in Garronois.
What was she going to do if he had somehow forgotten how to speak English? She didn’t have a phone or even a Garronois phrase book—that was back at the royal palace.
The palace.Fran closed her eyes, willing the nightmare to end. Here she was supposed to be helping Ari, protecting him in some small way or at the very least doing no harm as he struggled through his recovery. And she’d pushed him all the way to a collapse! She should have known the airfield was a bad idea, no matter how much he’d lobbied for it. She should have known he would go too far, have some sort of psychic break. She’d been thinking too much as a layperson and not as a soon-to-be counselor, and she should have known better!
They rode in relative silence the rest of the way to the hotel, and by the time they reached their tiny street, Ari appeared to be asleep.
The cabbie regarded her dubiously as she counted out the bills. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asked, and Ari stirred.
“I’ll be fine,” Fran said with a confidence she didn’t feel. She popped the back door, flooding the cab with light. “Thank you—truly. For all you’ve done. And for simply being there when I needed you.” She forced herself to stay cheerful. “You don’t know how much that means to me, in a foreign country.”
The cabbie was no longer focusing on her, and she glanced over at Ari, who was now fully awake, his eyes clear and lucid, his face unnaturally pale beneath the cab’s dome. The driver’s face was screwed up in confusion, and dread pooled in her gut.
