Blood of Dragons (Rain Wild Chronicles #4)

Blood of Dragons (Rain Wild Chronicles #4) Page 173

Jerd leaned closer. Nortel, her bed-partner of the night before, narrowed his eyes as she said quietly to Rapskal, ‘She isn’t the only woman in the world. Choose another.’

Sylve appeared to be choking as she tried to think of an appropriate insult for Jerd.

Rapskal stared at her, and for a moment his eyes were wide. He struggled with something. Then the instant passed and a grim smile claimed his mouth. ‘I shall.’ He looked at Jerd and dismissed her. He did not have to add the cutting words, ‘Like Thymara, I know well who I do not want.’ He stood and stretched, his broad shoulders straining the Elderling fabric of his tunic. The captain grinned at his men gathered around the campfire. ‘We should all get some sleep. Tomorrow we will reach Chalced. A city that is full of women, many of whom will doubtless be grateful to see the Duke fall. And willing to thank the victors.’

‘Oh, Rapskal!’ Sylve cried in a low, stricken voice.

Reyn thought that perhaps only he heard her. He thought of his own father, drowned in memories in Trehaug, of a man who was never himself again, never recognized his children or wife again.

But Kase’s loud exclamation overrode all else as he said, ‘A city full of women!’ He grinned at Boxter and added, ‘Tellator, what can you tell us of grateful women?’

‘Selden. Selden. It’s time to be awake. You need to eat and drink.’

He opened his eyes. Full daylight was streaming into the room. The potted roses on the balcony had leafed out, and the wind that wandered into the room was mild. As if in answer to spring, Chassim had discarded her pale shroud. He had never realized her hair was so long. She had left it loose, and it cascaded past her shoulders. The simple robe she wore was a pale pink, sashed with white. There were little rosebud slippers on her small feet. She was crouched by his couch, patting his hand to awaken him. A laden tray waited on the low table beside him.

‘You look like Spring herself,’ he said sleepily, and she blushed as pink as her gown.

‘You need to wake up and eat.’

He lifted his head and the room spun. He set it down again. ‘Is it today? Already?’

‘I’m afraid so. I want you to eat and then rest again before they come for you.’

He lifted his arm and looked at it. Both his arms were swathed from wrist to elbow in neat white wrappings. But he knew what they looked like underneath. Black and blue bruising covered them. ‘One of the healers spoke of making a cut at my neck. The others argued, saying they might not be able to stem the flow of blood afterward.’

She rose abruptly and went to the balcony to stare out of the window. ‘You should eat,’ she said hopelessly. In the distance, trumpets blared.

‘Chassim. I fear I won’t come back to you this time. Or that if I do, I may never awake again.’

‘I fear the same,’ she answered in a thick voice. ‘And as you see, I have prepared myself.’ She gestured at her garments and then at the open window. ‘I’ve made my little plan. After they take you, I will wait on the balcony. If they are angry when they come to my door, I will jump then, before they can seize me. If they bring you back to me, but I fear you cannot wake again—’

‘Take me with you,’ he said quietly. ‘The worst fate I can imagine is to wake in this room and find you gone.’

She nodded slowly. ‘As you wish,’ she said in a very small voice. She pulled herself up straighter and said, ‘But for now, you should eat.’

‘I don’t want to feel that depraved old man’s mouth on my throat.’

She had started across the room toward him. At his words she shut her eyes tightly and turned her face from him, sickened. She drew a deep shuddering breath. ‘Just eat something,’ she suggested.

‘There’s no point. If I’m going to take my own life, I’d sooner do it before they cut my throat and he sucks my blood again.’

‘Selden—’

‘Unless you’d like to dine with me. Shall we have a final meal together, Chassim?’

She came to his bedside, lifted the tray and took it to a low table on the balcony. ‘Do you mind sitting on the floor?’ she asked him. Her voice had become very calm. ‘If we are interrupted, if they chance to come early—’

‘We can still escape. An excellent idea.’

He lifted his head and this time the world did not spin. She came back to help him stand, letting him take his time. They crossed the room slowly, his legs wobbling with every step. His arms and wrists ached abominably. He was grateful to sink down on the floor beside the food. Chassim hastened to bring him cushions to lean against, and a coverlet to wrap about him. Spring was in the air, but he still shivered. ‘It feels good to be alive,’ he told her.