Strange covers were drawn up over his chest and arms. They bore down heavily on him. He tried to move and couldn’t, and while he was trying, he fell asleep.
When he woke again, daylight had almost faded completely. It was much cooler and the room was filled with deep shadows. He recognized nothing about the scene except for the pain he was in. His bones ached, a deep insistent throb, and he was still exhausted.
An echo of clashing swords drifted through his memory. Probably someone had kidnapped him. He found it hard to care at the moment, except if he was not dead, the whole event would turn into another long, dreary saga.
He closed his eyes and drifted.
The memory of the swordfight came back, stronger and clearer. The park, late at night. A triad of attackers. He fought hard, and he might have had a chance except for that first crippling blow that struck him from behind.
If he hadn’t sensed something and started to turn, the blow would have killed him. As it was, it cut through several major muscles in his back. Still he had tried, putting viciousness into every thrust and parry, while his defeat flowed down over the back of his legs in a hot red tide and he knew he was going to die, and really, in some ways, the realization was a relief.
A quiet noise broke through the memory. Someone moved around in the other room, and his eyes flared open again. Of course he wasn’t alone.
A slim straight figure appeared in the doorway then stepped into the room. The waning light fell on the familiar features of the Queen’s new attendant, Xanthe Tenanye.
Bitter disappointment lanced through him, and a sickeningly familiar sense of betrayal. He said savagely, “Better me than the Queen, I suppose, or have you taken her too?”
A smile had begun to spread over her face, and something had lightened her gaze. She froze, both smile and light dying. Expressionless and calm, she said with exquisite politeness, “You have been unconscious since the attack last night. I will need to check your bandages soon, my lord, but that can wait until the morning. There is broth and bread. You may not yet feel ready to eat, but it would be good if you could drink some broth. You almost d—you lost a lot of fluid.”
Almost died. Yes, that sounded about right.
He fixed his gaze on the ceiling’s rafters. Since he was not really suicidal, and he had not died, he supposed he’d better take in some sustenance. He would need strength for the upcoming ordeal. He bit out, “Very well.”
She seemed to hesitate. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bow her head and leave the room.
Why had she started to smile? That look in her eyes. She looked like he had kicked her in the teeth before that perfect, polite wall of hers had come down.
Come to think of it, why was he bandaged?
His assailants had not fought to overcome him. They had fought to kill him.
Realization stung him. He said, “Xanthe.”
He could not put much strength into his voice, but she heard him anyway and appeared again in the doorway of the bedroom. This time she remained in shadow, and he could not see her face, although he knew what she would look like. Perfect, expressionless.
“I am an old fool who has let himself become ruled by bitterness and disappointment,” he said tiredly. His meager strength was waning fast again. “I apologize for the conclusion I leapt to so erroneously. You did not deserve that.”
She moved forward quickly, coming into the light, and there was expression back in her face, shimmering in her eyes. “Please do not distress yourself, my lord. You have been badly injured, and you awakened to find yourself in a strange place with no explanation.”
He closed his eyes. “Yes.”
Gentle fingers touched his forehead then his cheek. Checking for fever, he supposed. Her hand felt warm, so he doubted he had one.
“Where am I?” he whispered. Speaking out loud was too hard to continue.
“You are at my cottage,” Xanthe said softly. Her quiet, calm demeanor was soothing. “Her grace and Tiago decided you should be brought completely outside of Adriyel, while they searched for who did this to you. Tiago brought you here in secret. Except for the Queen, Tiago and I, no one knows where you are. You are safe.”
He should never have doubted this straight, shining woman’s dedication. The damn covers still felt as heavy as a ton of bricks, prohibiting gesture. He felt the urge to turn his face to her warm, gentle hand, and a scant moment later, he was shocked to realize he had. “Thank you.”
She cupped his cheek. “I am so—glad that I could somehow be of service to you.”
“What do we know?” Inevitably his thoughts turned to the Ealduns. Had they discovered that Sebrin was digging into the case they had built against him? They wouldn’t have been goaded to violence by the threat of any of that becoming known, would they? After all, it would have come to light anyway had the lawsuit been allowed to continue.