Adalbrand shot him a poisonous look that I might have liked. It did not slow his work. He cut my sleeve slowly, inch by inch, with his knife. His eyes flicked up to mine every few seconds as he worked, one hand cradling my arm at the elbow, the other cutting my sleeve. His expression was open and sure. And I found I wanted to give myself over to him entirely — let him tell me what to do, who to fear, who to forgive. Surely he could do a better job of it than I.
“I should charge for admission,” Hefertus snorted from the sidelines. I blushed hot and looked away. “I could bottle this angst and sell it to elderly kings to use in their harem.”
“Don’t talk to me about elderly kings,” Adalbrand said with an edge to his voice.
“I always forget your father was one until you get prickly about it. Your loyalty is so very unearned, my friend.”
“Loyalty is a gift, not a reward.”
“From you it surely is.” Hefertus paused. “Not to put too fine a point on things, but we need to talk. I think we must do it now while the others are out there fitting cups into clocks. Which means the pair of you must put your — whatever you are doing with one another — to the side so that we can deal with the business at hand.”
My cheeks heated, but he was not looking at me and neither was Adalbrand. Adalbrand had the corner of his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he carefully cut my sleeve and Hefertus swallowed hard, his eyes on the dead Inquisitor. I bet that if we checked, the poor man would still be warm.
“They killed him in cold blood and they turned on me and on the Beggar.” I didn’t care that Hefertus used the slur for me. I didn’t think he noticed when it happened. “Lines are being drawn.”
“I think it was panic, mostly,” Adalbrand said, wincing as he peeled back my sleeve and finally got a proper look at the place where my bone stuck through the flesh of my arm. I hissed and bit off a whine when he tried to touch the skin close by.
The Poisoned Saint’s eyes met mine, sharing the wince. He was so pale.
“I don’t think you should heal this,” I said, forcing firmness into my voice. “You’ve already taken too much from the Majester. Just …” I felt a bit ill to say it when relief was an option and my voice stung in my throat. “Just set it if you can and wrap it. I can endure it.”
If I breathed a little thinly after that, can you blame me?
He looked from me to the dog, his face twisting with indecision.
“Not Brindle,” I said quietly.
“Definitely not Brindle,” Hefertus agreed dryly. “I swear to the God, Adalbrand, you take the martyr role too seriously. Do what the girl says and bind her arm, and when you have the strength to sit upright, you can heal her. That won’t be until morning at the earliest, and we both know it. The second you’re safe, you’ll collapse. Which is why we need to speak now. We’ve been working together loosely. We slept in one tent without killing each other. Can we speak words to this? Can we put our honor to an alliance until we get out of this cursed den?”
Adalbrand said nothing. His hand hovered over Brindle and fear seized my heart. I grabbed his wrist with my good hand and his eyes snapped up to meet mine. I’ve never been much of a secret keeper and I was afraid he was seeing my last secret laid bare in my eyes — but fearing something and letting it happen were two different things.
“Not the dog.”
He looked at me for a long moment and I winced internally at the expression in his eyes. He was weighing what it meant that I didn’t want healing for my dog. Yes, Adalbrand, I’m a mystery. Can you live with that?
He drew his hand back and cold washed over me. I could feel that with it, he was withdrawing some of the trust he’d given me, and that hurt. Even if he was right. Even if there was absolutely no way I could give in on this point.
It was one thing to overlook that I’d killed my mentor when he was possessed by a demon. It was entirely something else to reveal that I had not killed the dog the demon leapt into. He would judge me. And knowing Adalbrand, he would carry out his judgment with grim determination.
“Alliance?” Hefertus asked again, an edge of warning in his voice.
“Have I ever denied you, old friend?” Adalbrand asked, but his eyes were still on me, frowning.
“And you, Vagabond?” Hefertus asked me.
I glanced at him, surprised. He was only the second person to ever ask this, and the first was staring at me like I might shape-shift into a snake if he looked away.
“I welcome such a union,” I said gravely.
Hefertus nodded. “The others will form their own alliances. The High Saint and the Majester will work together. The Engineers will stay a pair. The Penitent will have to land somewhere. Do you think the Majester killed the Seer, too?”
“What?” I asked, genuinely surprised. That was a strange leap of thought.
“She had the key in her hand, didn’t she? The one Sir Owalan took when he thought no one was looking and then slotted into that lock the next morning. The Majester might have been after that. Or he might have just wanted to eliminate the competition. Like he did with the Inquisitor. I don’t believe his pretense at repentance.”
Adalbrand grunted, unwilling to commit.
Hefertus snorted. “You’re too trusting, Adalbrand. Someone knew what this place was. Someone who killed the Seer before she could stop us from being sealed in here. Someone who knew she had the key.”
