He nodded slowly. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did, apple pip,” he admitted in a whisper. “You saved my life, and probably the queen’s too.”
She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Pay me back in beef. Or even better, teach me to ride that big horse.” Her small face grew wistful. “I wish that I could ride away.”
“I’ll do my best.” If he lived, he would come back. With beef and riding lessons. “If you can ever get yourself north, go to the temple of the Nephilim. Tell them that Mathos of the Hawks sent you. They’ll keep you safe.”
He held out his hand, and she slipped her small one into his to shake. “You need to get away home now. Don’t let anyone see you.”
She took a step away, her face so young and yet so tired. “No one ever does….”
“I do, apple pip,” he replied quietly. “And the soldiers might too, so don’t take any chances, okay?”
She rolled her eyes, but she muttered a soft “Okay.” It was the best he could do. So little in exchange for the huge gift she’d given him.
She turned on to the path toward the village and started to run. Within a few seconds, she was lost in the darkness, and he whispered a final thank you into the night.
Mathos counted to three hundred, and then, when nothing else moved, he quietly took off his cotton shirt and tried to rip a strip from the bottom. It was ridiculously difficult. He glared at his hands, wishing for claws and silently nudging his beast to help.
It ignored him. Typical.
In the end, he was able to bite a hole in the cotton and then use that weakness in the fabric to tear off a long piece. He wrapped it around his shoulder and then used his teeth to help knot the ends, hoping that it would be enough to stop the bleeding. It restricted his movement as he pulled his shirt back on, and it hurt like hell, but it was the best he could do. His ribs, his eye, and the rest of his bruises would have to wait.
He followed the path toward the village, staying silent and trying to force his tired brain to come up with some kind of useful plan. The night wasn’t over, and he had a princess to find. Then, all he had to do was convince her that he was on her side and she should not immediately turn him over to Dornar.
His beast groaned, but he ignored it, there was no way he could simply walk away and leave Lucilla with Dornar. He had to try to fix things.
Chapter Eleven
The firelighton the ceiling flickered unevenly, as if a chilly breeze was somehow still making its way into the room, and Lucilla pulled the blanket closer, wrapping it over her shoulders and holding it tight. She was freezing despite the fire burning in the grate and the heavy drapes pulled shut against the night.
She was sitting on the bed with her back to the wall, her legs pulled up, head resting on her knees, contemplating just exactly how angry she was. And, damn it all, she was cold and hungry. Yet again.
Dornar had offered to take her to dinner, but she had told him that she wasn’t hungry. In reality, she couldn’t bear the idea of eating or drinking anything he gave her, and she’d retired to her room instead. Accompanied by four bloody guards. Two of whom now stood outside her door while the other two rested. Damn them to the Abyss.
Now that the wine was completely out of her system, and the adrenaline and shock had worn off, she was able to think. She had gone over everything that had happened again and again in her mind. Whether he intended it or not, everything Dornar had said had merely confirmed what Mathos and Tor had said.
And they had said not to trust Dornar.
Dornar had manipulated her so skillfully, making her feel young and in need of guidance, stupid even. He made her feel bad about her clothes and question herself about the wine. Somehow, he seemed to always agree with what she wanted and then convince her to do something else entirely.
It made her think that, whatever else they may have omitted, Mathos and Tor had been right about Dornar. And, if she was being honest, the only time she’d been warm, full, and safe, had been with them.
It was a truly appalling realization, but she should never have trusted the new Lord High Chancellor.
She shifted in her bed, too filled with nervous energy to sleep. Too worried about what Dornar would do next. She had been lying there for hours, listening to the noises of people moving around downstairs and finally leaving with loud farewells and slamming doors. The tavern keeper and his family cleaning, then closing up for the night.
But she still couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t even close her eyes. She wasn’t safe, and she had no idea what to do with the two guards standing outside her door.
She watched the firelight playing across the ceiling. What had happened to Mathos? Was he even going to Kaerlud? How badly had they hurt him? The last one was a stupid question. She knew they would have wanted to punish him. All those soldiers against one man. One man who had stayed behind for her.
She groaned and let her head fall back against the wall as her thoughts flittered in an endless, anxious loop.
She had to do something. The certainty grew bigger and bigger. She couldn’t stay in that cell-like room, allowing herself to become a prisoner again—she had to know the truth. Who had lied, and who was manipulating her to make her do what they wanted?
It was her life, damn it. Her kingdom too. The one thing everyone had agreed on, and presumably the only thing she could believe, was that her kingdom was in danger of being ripped apart.
It was terrifying to think that she could be personally responsible for so many lives. But did her fear give her the right to hide in her room, ceding control to a man who had drugged her and made her feel stupid? Wasn’t it worse for her kingdom to be under the control of a liar who only cared for himself than under the control of an inexperienced queen with no idea what she was doing?
She had to figure out who she could trust and start taking control back. Starting now.
