Shifting shadows peopled the walls. Ilythra studied the dancing light as more servants rushed to fill goblets or replace empty platters.
“Are you well?” Erhard spoke from the seat next to her.
His fragrance surrounded her, bringing with it a sense of peace and safety. “Yes, thank you.”
“Don’t you like the bird?”
“I’m sure it’s delicious. My appetite isn’t what it should be.”
“Perhaps you’ve been working too hard.” Bredych’s smile stretched his features but added no warmth. “Or not sleeping enough.”
Her reply stilled on her tongue. How had he known she hadn’t slept much? Paranoid, you’re being paranoid.
“Are you well enough to join the hunt?” Erhard laid a hand on Ilythra’s sleeve.
She sipped her wine. Liquid warmth spread across her chest. She’d forgotten Erhard had mentioned a hunt. “I’m fine. Thank you. But I’ll leave in the morning.”
Bredych ran a finger across his goblet’s rim. “Ah, but no one expects you anywhere. No one waits for your return. Isn’t this true?” He spoke each word with deliberation.
She hesitated. What was his game? “Yes.”
Bredych’s eyes flickered in the torch light. “Then there is no real reason to leave. You’re free to stay. I’m sure you’re an asset around a winter fire when the storms limit mobility and necessitate the intimacy of close quarters. You’ve so many fascinating tales to tell, if one should ask.”
“If one should ask.” Ilythra didn’t waver from Bredych’s magnetic gaze. Had it been her imagination that he stressed the word “real”?
Erhard removed his hand and picked up his knife. “At least stay for the hunt. I’ve been so looking forward to it.”
She glanced from the king’s hand covering hers to his face. It would be a shame to disappoint him after all he’d done for her. What was one more day?
The advisor sipped his wine. “Erhard tells me you’ve come to our little kingdom out of curiosity. So do you feel sated?”
“No. Not yet.” The room disappeared, and there was only Bredych.
“Be careful, Ilythra. You know what they say about curiosity?” His voice lost its bantering tone.
A shudder ran up Ilythra’s spine. Her heart raced. She forced herself not to look away. “No. What do they say?”
“Well, it never will be satisfied. It only grows hungrier.” One corner of his mouth lifted.
“You partake of a meal even though you will be hungry in the morning,” she countered.
Bredych raised his glass and then stood. “I have a small matter to see to before the hunt.” His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he turned.
Ilythra watched him go, relief flowing over her as he disappeared from view. Mohan had accused her of wanting revenge; she had denied it, though she had to admit the thought of revenge had lingered in the back of her mind.
“So you will stay?” Erhard’s voice had taken on a pleading tone.
She stared at the now-empty doorway. Perhaps now that he’d shown himself, she should linger a little longer, learn a little more about the other keeper.
“Yes. One more day.” What did she want from Bredych now? That was a question she was going to have to answer, and soon.
Chapter Nineteen
“I think the dogs have a scent,” Erhard called to the riders behind him, his face lit with glee. The announcement was met by increased banter.
Ilythra shook her head. Every animal within hearing range, except the dogs, would be long gone or deep in hiding. She hated to kill for sport, but the incompetence irritated her.
Weak sunlight broke through sickly foliage, dappling patterns of light on the forest floor. The horses’ hooves echoed dully over layers of yellow, decaying leaves as the hunting party followed a faint trail through thick forest. On one side of the path, a hill rose, thick with fern, overgrown shrubs and fledgling trees with an occasional sprinkling of late wildflowers daring the coming winter. A shallow ditch ran along the other side of the trail, lush greenery hiding the source of the soft sound of trickling water. They were hemmed in. It wasn’t a path Ilythra would have chosen to begin any kind of hunt.
She rode with Aclan, behind Erhard and Bredych, followed by Rothit and a few of the nobles. The easterners, who spoke loudly to one another in their native language, brought up the rear. Aclan had proved a silent companion, which suited Ilythra’s mood. Anger brewed under the surface. Something wasn’t right. Bredych rode just a horse-length away. Her frustration mounted. But at least she was feeling something. Perhaps it was an effect of the two stones in close proximity, but from time to time since she arrived at Greton, she had lacked any type of strong emotion.
She wanted to get the stone keeper alone so she could ask him about his stone. She shook her head. No, so she could find out if he knew anything about the Siobani. Fear cooled her skin. Where had the thought come from? She didn’t know, but something was happening to her. She felt almost out of control. She didn’t like it.
Bredych reined in his horse, drawing alongside her. Aclan had to fall back or risk his horse stumbling off the path.
He leaned toward her. “Do you enjoy the hunt?”
“I enjoy very much being out of doors.”
“A clever nonanswer.” Bredych smiled.
“Perhaps you don’t enjoy killing?” Erhard said.
Bredych’s dark gaze bore into hers. “Tsk. I think you’ve forgotten our Ilythra is not only a healer, but a warrior. Is that not so?”
Our Ilythra? “I’ve some skill.” She smiled.
“Of course.” His voice conceded nothing.
“So, you never said—do you enjoy the hunt, Lord Bredych?”
He made a noise low in his throat that sounded almost like a purr. “It depends what I’m hunting.”
“And what kind of quarry do you prefer?”
“Ai, the two-legged kind,” one of the Rugians broke in, laughing loudly.
Bredych snapped a few words in the unfamiliar language, and the laughter abruptly died. The advisor turned toward Ilythra. His eyes seemed magnetic in their intensity. “The worthy kind.” He tapped his boot against his horse and rejoined his king.
Dogs raced through the bramble on either side of the path, sniffing at leaves or occasionally hiking a hind leg to cover another dog’s scent. They were hunting a stag that had been seen nearby, but from the talk, Ilythra gathered if they bagged any animal, the men would be happy. Breathing deeply, Ilythra tried to define the scent invading her senses. Decay, moisture and something else.
One of the dogs raised its head and howled before plunging into the foliage, quickly followed by the rest of the pack. The mirth of the easterners died. Gazes darted to the murky forest as weapons were readied. In the distance, the braying of dogs rose in pitch then died down again.
“We’re getting close.” Erhard spoke to Bredych.
“Indeed we are.” The advisor’s voice sounded amused.
Ilythra glanced around, suddenly alert. Moisture dripped from bare branches, falling soundlessly on the forest floor.
Tashi sidestepped, her ears twitching. Ilythra leaned to pat her neck when she heard a low growl. A gray form flew out of the underbrush. Tashi screamed, twisting to meet an oncoming animal. Ilythra reached for her blade as Tashi fell sideways. Rolling clear of the horse, Ilythra rose, sword in hand.
A large gray wolf stood over Tashi, its muzzle stained red. His shaggy head turned in her direction; small black eyes regarded her, darting from the blade to her face.
The animal’s muscles tensed. Faster than she expected, the wolf was on her, teeth bared. Her sword found its belly, but its bulk threw her back into the ditch. Vicious teeth snapped near her face before the wolf succumbed to its injury. Pushing the dead creature o
ff, Ilythra scrambled to her feet. Snarls and the sound of nervous horses competed with grunts and metal against flesh. A small female wolf, pale eyes fixed on Ilythra, rushed toward her on silent paws. Ilythra swung and leaped up the embankment. Her sword severed the arteries in her neck.
Tashi’s fallen form caught her eye, but she scrambled up the shallow bank and sprinted toward Aclan, who struggled to fend off a wolf. Weak swings with his sword barely kept the animal at bay and he was losing control of his horse. The animal’s eyes were wild as she pranced, trying to avoid the wolf’s snapping jaws.
As Ilythra sprinted forward, Aclan’s horse reared, unseating the prince. The wolf leaped on Aclan.
She didn’t hesitate but jumped over the wolf and Aclan, twisting in the air to bring her sword across the wolf’s neck. The animal twisted toward her, fury in its eyes. Ilythra stood still as the wolf bunched its legs for a jump, blood running down its chest and legs, coloring its fur.
It surged forward. Fire lanced her thigh as she spun, bringing her sword in an upswing that almost severed the wolf’s head.
Blood blossomed along the boy’s tunic. Her hands shook as she tore it open to see gashes across his abdomen. She finished the job the wolf had begun on the prince’s shirt and tore it into strips then emptied her water skin over his torso. The gashes were not as deep as she feared. She breathed a sigh of relief, bound his wounds tightly with his shirt then turned her attention to blood seeping through the boy’s boot. The leather had saved him from a deeper injury, but he was losing too much blood. She moved to stand. Her thigh screamed in protest. Blood stained her leggings. She tugged on the material. It hurt like Gindean’s Keep but it didn’t look lethal.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and she turned in time to see another wolf charge forward. Still kneeling, Ilythra reached for the knife in her boot and threw it at the animal. It wouldn’t be enough. She stretched her body over Aclan in an attempt to protect the boy. Memories of desert sands and another boy flashed through her mind. She frantically looked around for her sword. The weapon lay just out of her reach. Leave Aclan and reach for the sword, or protect the prince? Any moment she knew she’d feel the bite of teeth or claws on her skin.
Before she could assimilate what was happening, a figure stepped between her and the wolf, and then she was staring at the wolf’s lifeless eyes.
Bredych stood a length away, his hand lax at his side. Blood dripped from his weapon to the ground, staining the leaves at his feet. Her gaze rose to meet his; bottomless black pools burned into her mind, ancient, cunning but tinted with an admiration that sickened her stomach.
He’d saved her. Why?
“Oh, gods!”
Erhard, his tunic bloodied and face ashen, stood over her and Aclan. The path was quiet, except for the horses snorting and the low murmur of men.
“Is he?”
“No. He’s alive, but we need to get him back to the castle.” She looked for Bredych, but he’d moved. He was a murderer. Why had he saved her?
Erhard hesitated, staring at his son.
“Now!” she insisted.
Men stood on the path, bloodied but trying to calm the horses.
Erhard shook himself then ordered one of his men to carry Aclan.
“Is anyone else hurt?” Ilythra asked, keeping her gaze away from Tashi.
“One dead. The rest, minor cuts, nothing pressing.” Rothit ran a sleeve across his face, leaving a muddy trail. “You’re bleeding.”
Ilythra glanced down at her thigh again. “I’ll tend it when I get back to the castle.”
Her gaze found a prone form a few paces away. Sounds around her faded as she approached her horse and kneeled. Eyes wide, Tashi struggled to rise. Ilythra examined the gash across her chest and then probed until she found a twisted bone in the left hind leg. She moved to Tashi’s head and stroked the horse’s wide forehead, seeing Tobar’s excited eyes when he gave her the mare. She swallowed tears. Tashi was trained for battle. On the desert or even on open ground, she could have avoided the wolf or even defended herself. On the close mountain trail, the horse didn’t have a chance. Guilt for taking Tashi from her home battled with sorrow.
“I’m sorry, girl.”
Tashi stared at her with white-rimmed eyes. Ilythra kissed her head and with a swift movement, she slit Tashi’s throat, stilling a sob in her own.
“I’ll replace her. You can have your pick of any horse in my stable.”
Ilythra glanced up. Backlit by the filtered sun, Erhard stood with an extended hand. Anger chased away her tears. She ignored the hand and stood. “You could never replace her. I’m more worried about your son right now. Why aren’t you?”
Erhard opened his mouth then shut it, a look of confusion on his features. “I am. Ilythra, are you all right?”
Realizing he’d grasped her arm, Ilythra pulled away. The king was weak. Why hadn’t she seen it before? “I will be.”
* * *
Getting back to the castle took longer than Ilythra would have liked. One of the men rounded up Aclan’s horse for her to ride. The animals were spooked by the lingering scent of blood and wolf. She hated to leave Tashi behind, but Erhard assured her that as soon as he got back to the castle, he’d order a cart to pick up the carcass.
Her mind was in turmoil. She struggled for a coherent thought, but they flashed through her mind so quickly she wasn’t able to hold on to one for any length of time before another replaced it. Tashi—it was like losing another friend—the wolves, anger, the boy. And behind it all, the image of Bredych holding his sword after the battle clung to her mind like a chill. Bredych had killed the wolf. But there was something wrong about the whole thing. Was he behind the attack?
“Wolves don’t attack like this.” She turned to Erhard, who rode near.
“I know. It’s strange, but we’ve destroyed the entire pack.” His voice held little emotion.
“No, Erhard. I mean wolves never attack like that,” Ilythra insisted.
The king shrugged as if to say they had.
Anger sharpened her words. “They were large, well fed. There is plenty of game in the forest. It doesn’t make sense.”
Erhard looked at her, his eyes dulled. “It happened.”
Why couldn’t he see? It was as though he was in a stupor. Ilythra urged the horse forward. At least she could help Aclan.
They dismounted in the courtyard, grooms running forward to take the horses away.
Ilythra limped up the stairs toward the open door. “Which way? Where did they take Aclan?”
Erhard looked up at Ilythra. Out from the shadow of the forest, his eyes seemed even more glazed, his reactions too slow. Had she misjudged him? Could he be in shock?
He walked up the stairs. “Follow me.”
“I’ll need my medicine pouch.” Perhaps she’d need to see to the king as well.
The king gestured to a nearby servant. “Fetch her bag. Meet us in Aclan’s room and be quick.” He led Ilythra up the main stairs and in the opposite direction of her room. Erhard paused before a door and threw it open as though afraid to see what was on the other side.
Ilythra rushed in, taking her cloak off and laying it at the foot of a large bed. The servants had set Aclan on top of the coverings.
“Bring water, hot,” Ilythra said as Cassia walked in the room with her bag. Erhard stood, wringing his hands, watching. Ilythra softened. “Go sit by a fire. Warm yourself. I’ll take care of him.” If he were in shock, the heat would help him.
Erhard nodded and left the room. Ilythra selected items from her bag and then rolled up her sleeves. “How are you doing, Aclan?”
The prince attempted to smile. “I’ve done better,” he mumbled.
“Hold still. I’ll take care of you.”
Cassia returned with a pot of steami
ng water. “I took it from the kitchen. Cook was preparing to stew a rabbit.”
“Thank you. Put it on the hook to bring it back to a boil and stoke the fire. I need it warm in here.” Ilythra rummaged through her satchel. She produced a needle and thread and handed it to Cassia. “Hold this in the boiling water.”
“Boil the needle? Whatever for?” Cassia did as she was told but raised her face to Ilythra’s. Eyes, the pale blue of ice at sunrise, questioned her. Erhard’s eyes.
“I need it very clean.” Ilythra poured a little water in a mug and added powered willow bark. Aclan was conscious, but barely. She held the liquid to his mouth. “Drink.”
He made a face and tried to pull away.
“I have to stitch you up. It’s going to hurt, but drink this and it won’t hurt quite so much.” The prince drained the cup. She turned to Cassia. “I’ll need the water and a small bowl.”
“Will this do?” The woman removed the bowl from the under the pitcher on the small table by the bed.
“Yes, just dip it several times in the boiling water.”
“To...clean it?”
Ilythra nodded. She cut away the rest of Aclan’s torn shirt to examine her makeshift bandages and retrieved a cloth from her pack. “Bring everything here.”
Cassia lugged the water then brought over the bowl and needle. Ilythra poured water into the bowl, added some herbs and set it aside to cool.
Ilythra removed the bandages. The gashes were wide and looked darker red for the pale flesh surrounding them; the bleeding had slowed but not stopped. With care, she cleaned the wounds on his torso and glanced toward his boots. The leather of the boot was keeping pressure on the injury. She’d take care of his stomach first. Aclan’s pale face was dewed with sweat. Her leg began to burn, reminding her she needed to tend to her own injuries as well.
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