The door into this terrible place had scrambled us like eggs before they were cooked. Fear and doubt laced through every inkling I had, twisting up my good judgment, and making me suspicious and fretful in a way I usually wasn’t. That quick attack from Adalbrand had left me so rattled that it took me a complete turn around the room “searching for the cup” before I was calm enough to deal with him head-on. I hoped he hadn’t noticed. I hoped I’d looked as if I was in possession of myself and not quivering with nerves like an un-blooded girl who’d never faced a demon.
He’d sworn to me at the end of it — or with me, I suppose. What a mad, warrantless thing to decide to do. Had Brindle been on this side of the door, I think he might have bit me.
You really did ruin her, didn’t you, you moldering old armor suit. Here she could have been the one wheeling through this world pinning pretty knights to walls and cutting throats but no, you filled her with catechisms and prayers and empty hands.
He had. Thank the Merciful God.
I think this Adalbrand is sincere. He means to keep his word to you. This kind usually does. They don’t thrash out at others. They eat themselves from within.
Except for when they were thrashing out at me, apparently.
I rather think that’s unusual for him. It’s completely unlike you to be anything but bold, for instance, and I feel your bowels trembling like jelly.
Rude.
Though, if I were frank with myself, I could admit that a second set of eyes would be useful in helping me navigate back toward a more objective view of things — even if those eyes were equally off-kilter.
You already have two more sets of eyes, little morsel. What need have you of a third? I see past the veil of skin to where each heart festers.
Somehow, the perspective of a demented spirit wasn’t quite the same as another living, breathing human. Call me any name you like, but I’d stand by that.
You just like that he’s living and breathing. Are you sure you’re not the one twisted by the sin of craving another? Doubt is so passé. Give me something thick and meaty like lust to work with.
Was Sir Branson hearing this?
Well, the knight did admit to lust, my girl. And that’s a real concern. The problem with lust is that it is treating people like objects. When he admits he has that problem, he’s admitting that he’s willing to treat you like you aren’t even a person.
Just treat him the same way — like a snack. Good for one sweet taste and then gone.
I swallowed hard.
“What have you found?” Adalbrand asked, slipping to my side so smoothly that he could be the haunting spirit and startling me out of my internal conversation.
“Look at the sphere,” I said aloud, tracing the edge of one of the etchings. “See this ragged edge? Doesn’t that look like the coastline of the Grayling Sea? There’s the distinctive rabbit-foot shape.”
Adalbrand grunted, leaning in closer. I tried very hard not to be overly aware of how he filled the space, how his masculine scent was stronger since our brief encounter.
If he hadn’t taken me by surprise, he’d never have gotten the better of me. He was quick but I could be quicker.
Taking you by surprise is getting the better of you. I’m going to enjoy watching you wreck your ship on this rock. He’s going to leave you hollow and gasping and broken.
“It does look like the Grayling Sea but surely it’s a coincidence.”
“Follow the edge of it. Here’s where it would disappear under the receding ice wall, if this were a map.”
“But who would put a map on a sphere?” He traced the edge with his finger, still bare from when we shook hands and made that oath.
If you don’t find the Cup of Tears, the pair of you will now be bound together, charging this way and that like knights errant. Best to find it. And fast.
Have I mentioned that it’s hard to have a conversation when the people in your head won’t be silent?
I forced myself to do it anyway. “Did you note the strange map mosaic on the floor as we descended the stairs?”
“Mmm,” he agreed. “It was difficult to see details, though, unless you stood high enough and looked down. Up close, it looked only like the rock shards that comprised it. I don’t see the connection.”
“Don’t you?” I asked, enjoying myself enough to raise an eyebrow. I liked teasing him. I hadn’t teased anyone in a long time. I remember my father loved to tease — to pull my little braids and pretend to steal my treats. “A paladin of a scholarly aspect like you?”
The poisoned look he shot me fit his title perfectly. It brought my smirk to the surface.
