“IF YOU DON’T GET OUT of that bed soon, I will surely expire from boredom.”
The voice, amused, lighthearted, and familiar, called out to Corwin through a haze of sleep so deep he thought it was a part of the dream. But then a loud, obnoxious yawning sound reached him next, and he knew it was real. Slowly, the prince opened his eyes and blinked against the light.
Dal sat on a chair beside the bed, his feet propped up on a lace-covered end table. His expression looked far from bored when his gaze met Corwin’s. “He lives!” Dal clapped his hands. “Alert all the maidens in the land and let them rejoice. Or maybe just one maiden in particular.”
“What are you going on about?” Each word felt like gravel in Corwin’s throat, and he started to cough.
Dal slid his feet from the table and stood to pour a glass of water from a nearby pitcher. He held the glass out to Corwin. “Don’t you remember?”
Corwin stared at his friend, his thoughts clouded at first, then slowly parting into clarity. “The caravan was attacked by nightdrakes, only it was in the day.” He sat up, his aching body barely a match for the thick, soft mattress that seemed to drag him down again. “Kate was there.”
Dal tsked. “You’re sorely behind the times, my friend. We’re calling them daydrakes these days. And that attack was more than two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks?” Corwin gaped, his dry, cracked lips protesting painfully.
“Just drink this already.” Dal shoved the glass toward Corwin again. “You sound like a toad.”
Corwin accepted it and took a long drink that burned down his throat and into his belly.
With his duty accomplished, Dal resumed his seat. “The green robes have been keeping you asleep with some potion or other. They claim it was necessary for your recovery. Something about the way drake venom lingers in the blood. It made no sense to me.” Dal shrugged. “But then again, I’m not a healer. How’s the shoulder?”
It took Corwin’s sluggish mind a moment to catch up to Dal’s rapid chatter. Then he remembered a drake had bitten his shoulder. He raised his left arm and felt the twinge of flesh not quite healed beneath a thick bandage.
“It’s more bearable than your nattering. How did I get here, anyway?” Giving the room a glance, Corwin recognized it as the same one he’d stayed in before when he visited Farhold. Green curtains trimmed with golden tassels hung around the large canopied bed, all drawn back at the moment to let in the breeze coming through the opened window across the room.
“Nattering indeed.” Dal huffed, then launched into a story about Kate coming upon the caravan not long after the attack and rescuing him. Images, broken and confused, spun through Corwin’s mind. He remembered her being there, and how his fear for her had surpassed the pain of his injuries. And yet, she survived.
She saved me. More memories came to him, of the bleary journey to the tower. Then of the way she had tended his wounds, her fingers on his skin. Tingles rippled down his body at the recollection.
“Where is Kate now?” Corwin said, cutting Dal off in the middle of another rambling sentence.
A sly grin slid over his friend’s face. “In the city. I’ve been keeping an eye on her for you. She’s been grounded from making any Relay runs. All the women riders have been, with the threat of these daydrakes.”
Corwin frowned. “I bet she’s not happy about that.”
“My informant tells me she’s as friendly as a half-starved rattlesnake.” Dal assumed a deep, gruff voice. “‘It’s a very good thing that young lady doesn’t have sharp teeth or she might bite someone.’ That’s a direct quote.”
“Yes, you can see my surprise, I’m sure.” Corwin took another drink, hiding a smile. Perhaps Kate hadn’t changed so much after all. “Tell me the rest. I remember the Relay tower, but little beyond that.”
“Well, after your sweet damsel rescued you and carried you off to safety, she went for help. I was already out looking for you, thanks to Master Raith, who, gods be good, managed to escape the attack with his life. We came upon her around midday. She led us back to the tower and the magists got to work fixing you. We brought you back to Farhold, and you’ve been stuck in this bed ever since.”
The notion turned Corwin’s stomach. It reminded him too much of his sickly father. Despite the fatigue weighing him down, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, determined to get up. Just not yet, he thought as a dizzy spell struck him. He squeezed his eyes closed until it passed.
“How did Master Raith escape?”
“He’s a wily one, that one,” Dal said. “He used something called flash stones. They’re newly sanctioned, apparently. They blinded the creatures long enough for him to get away.”
Corwin scooted to the edge, planting both feet on the thick carpet. “Have there been other attacks?”
Dal shook his head. “Fortunately, no. There haven’t been any sightings of these daydrakes.”
“None at all?” Nothing about this made sense. Looking back, Corwin didn’t think there’d been more than nine or ten of the beasts that had attacked the caravan, less than in a typical nightdrake pack, and yet it had been more than enough to destroy them. We weren’t ready. They hadn’t restocked the enchanted arrows before setting out that morning. Corwin hadn’t believed there was a need, and he’d been impatient to get moving.
“I’ve not even seen one yet.” Dal crossed his arms and gave a huff.
“What?” Corwin clutched at the bedpost as he tried to summon the strength to stand.
Dal stepped forward and offered him a hand. “It’s true. Master Raith and I visited the remains of the caravan. All the drake corpses were gone.”
“Gone?” Getting to his feet, Corwin swayed a moment, gripping Dal’s hand hard for balance.
“Yes, gone. And that hurts, by the way.”
Corwin let go, locking his knees into place as Dal continued.
“All we found were signs of something heavy having been dragged away. It didn’t even look like a drake attack. All the dead horses and men were still there, just lying in the road.”
Uneaten, Corwin heard the implication. He shuddered, guilt twisting his insides as he pictured Master Barrett, Captain Morris, Stormdancer, the guards. All dead. He was their prince. And I failed them. Corwin glanced down at the tattoo on his wrist, the hawk and shield symbol mocking him, as always—reminding him of the other men he’d failed.
“Don’t you do that,” Dal said, catching him in the glance. “How many times do I have to tell you that what happened wasn’t your fault? There’s no way you could’ve—”
Corwin cut him off with a raised hand, uninterested in the old argument. “Will you please fetch me a robe?”
With a loud grunt, Dal spun away to grab the robe from the wardrobe just beyond. He returned a moment later and helped Corwin into it. Corwin would’ve preferred to get out of the dressing gown he was wearing, but he didn’t feel up to it just yet, and he had no wish to call for a servant. In the two years he’d been gone from Rime, he’d learned to live without such things. He preferred it that way, finding freedom in simple tasks.
Fastening the cord around his waist, Corwin turned and walked over to the sitting area, where he dropped onto one of the sofas. The effort left him panting. Parts of his body hurt that he didn’t even know existed.
“I’ve been wondering,” Dal said, following after him, “if the attack on the caravan is connected to what happened at the Gregors’.” He took the chair opposite Corwin.
“Why would you think that?” Corwin slowly rotated his neck, bones popping and muscles screaming.