She laughed a little. So much for genuine sorrow. “Yeah, after that little exchange of words you two had, I should think so.”
Heat that wasn’t from the fever flushed his cheeks. Eavesdropping little tramp. “To the point, please?”
She didn’t react at all to his rudeness, which was somehow aggravating. “Simply put, you need a new Warden. More accurately, Terindi does. Since I scored the highest on the most recent Elikwai evaluation, I’m one of your candidates.” She smiled sweetly. “That’s the point.”
He waited a couple seconds to make sure she wasn’t playing a prank. All she did was keep smiling, head tilted slightly, her amber eyes sparkling in the sunshine.
It was perhaps the most ludicrous suggestion the council had ever made. He cleared his throat. “The council has actually not discussed this with me. Until they do I don’t think there’s anything for us to talk about.”
He made it two steps before she spoke up again, “You’re in a hurry to nowhere. The councilmen have gone their separate ways, I don’t think they’ll be available any time soon.”
Confound this woman. “As I already told you, I can’t think of anything for you and I to discuss at this time.”
She laughed again. The fact that she was undeniably an attractive, charming young woman did not in the least improve the situation. He would rather deal with men that disliked him, or resented his authority, or were foolish, or even men that were trying to kill him, than…this. “Do you ever take a break from talking like a Sanonyan king?”
“You do realize that I am Sanonyan…?”
“Point proven. Of course I realize it—you’ve got that flawless golden complexion, it’s a little obvious. See, you blush like one too.”
His cheeks were flaming. Telling her it was due to a fever didn’t seem like it would help much. “What is it you’re so desperate to talk about?”
She grinned coyly at him. “Is me being desperate to talk to you wishful thinking on your part, an attempt at humor or flirting, or do you actually detect desperation in my address? See, I can talk Sanonyan too.”
He realized a little late that he was staring dumbly at her. Some Irlaish god, please smite me. All he wanted was some peace and quiet, and Jaylee’s company offered the exact opposite. Based on looks alone, it was no wonder she had been courted by almost every eligible man in the Elikwai barracks, but he did not understand how they could disregard everything else. Maybe if so many men hadn’t reinforced the idea that she was a queen and every man her slave, she would have a little more humility and respect. “I would appreciate some propriety, if you can manage it, in our—”
“Silquije Eun!” A Stitch came running up to them, hastily bowing. “Arji Talereinna woke up. She’s—”
He was already sprinting to the palace. Talea needed him.
17
Drifting
Y hkon arrived at Talea’s room dizzy and breathing hard, forced to acknowledge that the medics had been justified in prescribing bed rest. That didn’t matter. Talea’s eyes were open, and terrified. She was squirming, clearly afraid of the Stitch trying to restrain her, and clearly made restless by the pain even as her movement made it worse. Tears shone on her cheeks. She groaned, clutching her heavily bandaged stomach.
He sat down on the bed next to her, taking her hands to keep her from moving so much. “Hey, Talea, it’s me. You’re safe.” He caught the Stitch’s eye and jerked his head towards the door. Understanding, the man left quietly.
Some of the confusion and fear drained from Talea’s expression, as she looked at him. The pause didn’t last long, a spasm of pain making her catch her breath and squeeze her eyes shut. “Yhkon it…it hurts…” She gripped his hand till her knuckles were white. “Wh-where are we?”
“We’re in Calcaria.” She was writhing again, with a whimper from the pain. Perspiration beaded her brow, yet her hands were clammy. “You have to hold still, Talea…I know it hurts, moving will make it worse.” He pulled her against his chest, arms around her back, holding her close to stop her movement. Her skin was hot with fever, and she mumbled something inarticulate. “Shhh.” He brushed her hair from her neck.
Gradually, she drifted out of consciousness. The fever must have been playing with her mind—she was groggy and even delirious after a few minutes. But she wasn’t crying or moving anymore, and eventually her breathing steadied, telling him she was asleep. He didn’t let her go, though, lest it disturb her. Gingerly he adjusted to a more comfortable position with his back against the headboard, and let himself relax. Or he would have, if he could control his mind. The image of Ahjul’s lifeless body refused to leave, with Tarol’s words playing over and over again. When he finally started to drift off, it was Tessa he saw, her eyes closed, skin ashen, a sword through her chest. It jerked him awake, briefly, before he dozed into a half-awake nightmare of Talea dying the same way Tessa had.
A soft knock on the door banished the dream. Bactah entered, anxiously surveying him and Talea. “Is she alright?”
Yhkon let his head fall back against the wall. “What does it look like?”
His friend frowned. “What about you?”
A convincing lie would be too much work. “Same answer.”
Bactah swallowed and looked away. At length, he continued. “The council would like another meeting. As in Enisham. I would have told him to go chase a barbsit, but—”
“It’s fine.” Yhkon shook his head. “Let’s get it over with.” He gently set Talea on the bed and pulled the blankets up to her shoulders. Thankfully, she didn’t wake.
The first flight of stairs was enough to make him dizzy and hot, only to suddenly shiver with a chill. They were almost to the council room when a Stitch stopped them. It was one of the pair that had been taking care of Tarol. Fidgeting nervously, he bowed, before facing Yhkon. “Listen, sir…I just want you to know…Silquije Quoye seemed pretty low. We were just trying to distract him, cheer him up maybe. I just…well I thought you should know that I uh, I don’t think he’s taking Silquije Hyrru’s death too, um, lightly.”
Yhkon tried to form a reply. Nothing would come.
Bactah gave him a perplexed look, but addressed the Stitch. “Well, I don’t know the details of the situation, but I’m sure Silquije Quoye mourns Ahjul’s death just like all of us, I know they were good friends.” Grabbing his arm, Bactah tried to keep moving, but Yhkon couldn’t make himself simply follow, having said nothing.
He stopped beside the Stitch, not even sure what he was going to say yet. “Um, thank you for…for telling me.” Pursing his lips, he followed Bactah.
He was almost surprised when they arrived at the council room, as if snapped from a daze, in which he’d forgotten that that was where they were going. He closed his eyes for a moment, both to recover from a wave of dizziness and to try and clear the fog that had taken over his thoughts.
The effects of his fever must have been visible, because Councilman Kwin got up with a worried look. “Good grief, are you alright? Come sit down.”