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“No, no, no, don’t get up. It’s right here. See?”
I snatched it from her, and when my trembling hands couldn’t get the flap open, I turned it upside down and emptied the entire thing onto her floor while Kate watched, slightly agape. Dropping to my knees, I sifted through my paltry belongings until I found the square of silk. I almost cried with relief when I saw that of the three drops, only Kellan’s was faded, and less so than I remembered. The other two were still a deep, dark red.
It was easier to clean up the mess than it was to make it; my hands were already steadier. The last thing I put away was the charm bracelet, from which hung a single remaining charm, the winged horse. I held it out to Kate.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s for your help. Please take it, and I’ll go.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I can’t let you do that.”
“I have to pay you somehow. I know it isn’t much, but—?”
“No, I mean . . . I can’t let you go.” She gave a frustrated grumble. “Zan will be by shortly—?he’s been coming about every other hour to see how you’re doing. He wants to talk to you. I told him that, if by some miracle you did wake up, I’d keep you here until he came back so he could at least try. I didn’t tell him you wouldn’t punch him in the face. I think he’s earned it, taking your horse like he did.”
In spite of everything, I found myself smiling. “I already did hit him once,” I said. “But it was more of a really hard shove.”
“Did you, now? He has that effect on people. I’ve gotten a few over on him myself. Mostly when we were children, but still. It counts.”
“That’s because you’ve always been a bully.”
I hadn’t heard Zan arrive, but there he was in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame.
“And where’s my husband?” Kate asked. “You’ve got him doing your dirty work again, no doubt. If I have to clean blood out of any more of his shirts . . .”
“You know it’s never his blood on his shirts.”
“And that’s supposed to make it better?”
He shrugged. “Yes, a little.”
She put her hands on her hips. “I still don’t like it.”
“Don’t worry; tonight it’s nothing dangerous. He’s making my excuses to the king about why I won’t be attending the Petitioner’s Day banquets.”
“Not dangerous?” Kate snorted. “That’s only ‘not dangerous’ because he’s telling Domhnall what he wants to hear.” She leaned over to me and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Zan’s not really welcomed at any courtly dealings. They used to try to get him to be involved, but he made himself a terrible nuisance and blundered everything he touched until no one could stand it anymore and they quit asking him to come. And that’s really saying something, considering Domhnall is king.”
“It was a calculated effort,” Zan said. “I did it to gain the freedom I needed to get real work done, unhindered by courtly politics and the irrational whims of that very stable genius.”
“Of course it was,” Kate said sweetly. But Zan didn’t answer; his attention had turned to me.
I did not look up as he approached me, choosing instead to stare at his boots through the escaped tendrils of my hair. On our last encounter, I’d been deliriously burning two deviant brutes half to death. The time before that, I’d dragged him into a hedge and draped myself all over him like a lovesick lunatic. At this point I could go dance a naked jig in the town square and my humiliation could not be more complete.
Still, I was intensely aware of his proximity now. Those seconds together in the rose hedge had shifted something fundamental between us, exposing a strange and unsettling connection we’d been oblivious to before. Zan came to a stop a margin closer than should have been comfortable for our limited acquaintance, as if he sensed the connection too and was now testing its borders.
Determined not to be cowed by him or my own newfound curiosity in him, I forced myself to look him full-on in the face. He reached toward my cheek but paused a mere fraction before touching my skin.
“You’re not going to kick me again, are you?” he asked.
“I’m still deciding,” I answered.
Accepting the possible consequences, he tucked my hair back before crooking a finger beneath my chin, moving my face gently to the side so he could survey the bruises along my cheekbone and my swollen lip.
Pursing his lips, he asked, “I know you’ve been through a lot, but do you feel well enough to take a walk? There’s something I’d like to show you.”
* * *
Moving was much more difficult than I anticipated, but Zan tried to be patient, retaining his air of casual uncaring but still putting his arm around my shoulders to help me when I winced or gasped as we picked over the rough terrain. And it was rough; we left Kate’s house by
