“Obviously you were all going to come out in ten hours and you were going to come by sea. Did you really think I wasn’t paying attention?”
He held the full weight of Adalbrand as if he weighed nothing at all, not looking even fatigued when I made him pause so I could pull up the edge of Adalbrand’s tunic. The slash across his ribs was still bleeding far more than I’d like. I hissed as I tried to probe how bad the injury was.
“We’ll take care of him at the tent,” Hefertus said.
I nodded and we set out, Brindle trotting out in front of us, nose to the ground.
The shore was rocky and uneven and it took us some time to wend our way around to where Hefertus had set up camp.
It was slow going for all of us except Brindle. Hefertus was being careful with his charge. I was wearied from the journey through the sea and the tumult of emotions that had raged through me at the fountain and the strange, scouring fire of the God that had performed his miracle. I felt as though I’d been scrubbed inside and out and was now a limp rag fit for nothing but drying in front of a fire.
“The God saw fit to set me on the other side of the door,” Hefertus explained.
“After you left the battle to us?” I couldn’t help myself. No fire or tent was enough to keep the bitterness from my voice.
“It was not my fight,” he said simply. It must be nice to have that kind of confidence. “At any rate, it seemed to me that either the demons would win and come screaming out of there, in which case I would be required to spend my life on eliminating them — a thing I’d rather avoid — or someone would defeat them and the place would be a ruin. Either way, I could hardly leave the poor horses there.
“I took them with me. And my gear. And Adalbrand’s. If you had something precious to you, I fear it’s lost. I didn’t want to steal anyone’s things. Adalbrand wouldn’t care. He is a brother to me.”
“You two are definitely very close,” I said wryly as we turned a corner in the shore and I saw three horses hobbled beside Hefertus’s silken tent and a roaring bonfire.
“Oh no, I mean he’s actually my brother. Most likely. My mother claims I am one of King Abrent von Menticure’s many bastards, though there’s no saying for sure. She’s a Duchess of Shannamara. They aren’t fussy about bed partners. And they’re matriarchal, so I have her name, of course.”
I found myself blinking at that. “Does he know?”
Hefertus paused and frowned. “I don’t know, now that you mention it. I don’t think I’ve ever told him. He’s suspicious enough of me as it is. No need to make it worse.” He gestured dismissively. “He doesn’t like my devil-may-care attitude. But it’s bred in the bone. It’s going nowhere.”
“Oh.” It was a foolish thing to say, but we’d reached the camp now and Hefertus pointed to a pile of blankets on the shore.
“I did take the Seer’s blankets. She wasn’t going to need them. Put them by the fire, would you?”
I arranged the blankets in a pallet and Hefertus set Adalbrand down on it and went to find his kit. The Poisoned Saint would need stitching along his side and possibly in his neck. Brindle had torn him up there, too.
When Hefertus wasn’t looking, I threaded my fingers through Adalbrand’s hair. He looked so pale. He’d given the very last shred of himself for me.
My gaze strayed guiltily to where Brindle yawned beside the fire. Just Brindle. No demon, no paladin, just an innocent dog again. Behind him, the horses nickered, and when Hefertus returned with Adalbrand’s small black bag, I raised an eyebrow at him.
“You only kept three horses?”
“I let the rest go. I don’t need nearly a dozen horses.”
“But why three?” I pressed as I dug into the black bag to find thread and needle so that I could stitch Adalbrand’s side.
“One for me — obviously. One for Adalbrand. I knew he’d make it. He’s too tough to kill. And one for you.”
“For me?” I looked up, feeling amused despite myself.
“Just stitch the man who might be my brother,” he said grumpily. “I’ll brew tea.”
I didn’t ask if he’d stolen the tea. He could keep his secrets. I just stitched Adalbrand, drank my tea, and complied without complaint when Hefertus insisted on bundling both Adalbrand and me in blankets inside his tent.
“Two will be warmer than one,” he said when I suggested I help him stand watch. “You can stand watch tomorrow.”
I thought that after all that had happened, I should maybe spend the night in vigil. Or prayer. Or just being grateful to have survived.
I watched Adalbrand breathe for a time. Made sure he sounded fine. Marveled that he was alive and not drowned in the sea. His short hair was lovely, plastered to his head by the sea and then ruffled by my fingers, and his lips were soft as they were parted in sleep.
But he hadn’t clasped me in relief like I’d expected. He hadn’t even shared a single warm glance with me. Though that ached when I turned it round and round in my mind, it wouldn’t be fair to hold him to things he’d said when we were both in that dark place. It wouldn’t be honorable.
