Kyra was finally warming up, and she let the blanket fall from her shoulders. “I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll have to think about how best to track him. It’s a pity I didn’t learn more about James’s crew of spies during my time with the Guild.”
“You heard about James, then?” said Tristam.
“Aye, Flick told me. Is it…certain?”
“The executioner’s wagon is set to leave the compound gates at the eighth hour tomorrow.”
The executioner’s wagon…There was still something she might be able to do for James, though she wasn’t sure if she had the stomach to see it through. “Is it taking the normal route from the Palace to the city center?”
“As far as I know.” Tristam eyed her suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” She stood. “I should go. I’m…glad that you’re all right, Tristam. Flick and the girls are taking shelter with a woman named Mercie just south of the city. If you need to find me, they’ll know where I am.”
He wrapped her hands in his own. “Take care, Kyra.” This time, the thoughts of his betrothed did come into her mind, but Kyra pushed them away. There were bigger things at stake.
“Thanks for letting me warm up.” She studied his face again as she handed him the blanket, fixing his features to memory.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you shiver so much,” he said, smoothing the blanket back over his bed. “And you must have scaled walls on colder nights than this.”
“It was windy,” Kyra said.
“True. Well, maybe you can run extra quickly to stay…” His voice trailed off. The look he turned on Kyra was a little too keen. “You’ve not been running, have you? Did you have to stay out in the cold somewhere?”
“I…” Kyra trailed off, distracted by the memory of Tristam and Cecile. No sooner after she faltered did she realize that she should have kept talking. Tristam’s brow furrowed, and she could see him trying to figure out why Kyra was slow to answer what she realized now had been an innocent question.
Then his eyes widened in a mixture of comprehension and dread. “You saw her, didn’t you?”
It wasn’t the first time that Kyra wished Tristam weren’t quite so observant. Her silence spoke more clearly than any affirmative, and Tristam let out a soft groan. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“I wasn’t spying. You weren’t here when I came to find you, and then I saw you return with her.” She didn’t want to argue with Tristam over this, not when she didn’t know when she’d see him again. “She seems nice,” Kyra finished lamely, belatedly wondering if it came across as sarcastic.
There was a grim humor in Tristam’s eyes as he took in her words. He sat down heavily on his bed. “I have very little to complain about,” he said. “She’s pleasant and close to me in age.”
Kyra didn’t want to hear this, but he was staring past her without seeing her.
“Cecile is lovely and talented, and clearly cares about her family.” Tristam shook his gaze from whatever he’d been looking at and focused his eyes back on Kyra. “I feel nothing for her,” he said simply. “Nor does she feel anything for me. We’re both well trained in the courtly arts. We can exchange pleasantries for an hour, and we can smile at each other over dinner. I suppose marriages have been built on less.”
Though it pained her to hear about this girl, Kyra also realized now how self-centered she’d been. She’d painted herself as the victim in this scenario, the city girl who would be tossed aside by a nobleman. But she hadn’t considered how hard it would be for Tristam. He wasn’t some fatpurse who took and discarded women at his whim. He was bound by his family and his duties in a way that Kyra never would be.
She crumpled the hem of her tunic. It was time to grow up. “I said some things I shouldn’t have, when we last spoke of your marriage.” Right before I turned into a felbeast, eviscerated a man, and had to flee the city, she thought ruefully. How had so much happened in so little time? “It was unfair of me to be so upset with you. I understand that you have duties to your family.”