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“Poison.” When he looked at her again, layers of loss and anger shone beneath the shadows in his eyes.
Thea's pulse sped. “Word from the palace said—”
“Aleron thought it best if the truth wasn't known,” Gil said. “The plague was a time of fear for Kentoria. They did not need more. He was not ready to take his brother's throne, and the losses of the plague offered time for his grief. Time to prepare himself for the role he didn't expect he'd take. He sent me to find whoever killed Calem. I found nothing.” Frustration edged his voice.
“Aleron ruled almost a year.” She made herself focus on taking remaining measurements, then knelt to mark them on the fabric. She'd only brought a light colored chalk and it hardly showed against the pale cloth. “Did you look for all that time?”
“I've never stopped looking.”
Thea didn't know what to say. She opted for simple repetition. “I'm sorry.”
Half of her was tempted to ask about the others. She still didn't know who lived, but she wasn't sure she should push. Gil offered information on his own terms, and she'd only just coaxed him from his dour mood.
The longer she considered, the less important the question seemed. She'd seen Gaius killed and he'd confirmed the death of Calem, so only two options remained. Aleron had been a gentle ruler, hesitant in his choices but sure once he made them. Lucan, the king before Gaius, had been impulsive by comparison, but most had agreed he tried to make decisions with Kentoria's best interest at heart. Thea was less charitable. Lucan's orders had led to her brother's demise.
Still, while Thea hoped Aleron was the king Gil sought, anyone would be better than Gaius. After his brothers, Gaius had been a monster, a single-minded fury that cared nothing for his people and focused all his strength on the development of guard and military forces. With how powerful Kentoria already was, it had left everyone wondering whether he feared attack, or if he planned one of his own.
A new thought crawled through the back of her head and she bit her lip. Maybe he had reason to fear. “Did he know you were coming?”
Gil cocked his head to the side. “What?”
“King Gaius. Did he know?” Perhaps that was why he'd bolstered the guard.
“If he didn't, he was a fool.” He nudged her scissors closer with his boot. “But I've distracted you enough. Continue. By your leave, I'll rest while I am able.”
“Suit yourself,” she murmured. She wasn't ready to give up conversation, but she'd get no more out of him now. Still, a new sort of hope flickered inside her as she cut the fabric and settled to sew. By Gil's estimate, there were still two days of travel left. She would have her answers by then. If Aleron still lived, the kinder of the kings and the king she had first petitioned for help, perhaps she could someday go home.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Alarm bells clangedthrough the village streets. Thea jerked awake at the same time Gil rolled off the bed. He landed beside her with a quiet thump, daggers already in his hands.
Panic clawed at her throat. She'd fallen asleep with her back against the side of the bed and his shirt lay unfinished on her lap.
“Pack everything,” Gil said as he swept his cloak from the floor beside her and stalked to the door. “We're leaving. Now.”
“But I'm not finished yet!” She gripped the shirt with both hands and raised it, as if it might change his mind.
“Later. Pack. Meet me downstairs.” He slid into the hallway and shut the door. Voices rose with questions and she caught the deepest tones of his response, but couldn't make out the words. Elsewhere, perhaps in the main room below, someone shouted.
Thea swallowed hard. She didn't know what might stir a quiet village to panic and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Biting back fear and frustration, she crammed her sewing into its basket and took her bags. Gil's still waited on the bed. Was she supposed to bring those, too? She chewed the inside of her lip a moment before she picked them up, as well. Only after they bumped against her back did she recall what one of them contained. Her stomach lurched.
More voices rose in the room below, too muffled to make out, but their distress was unmistakable. She pushed into the hallway, expecting to find other people fleeing. Instead, a handful of village folk scurried past on their way into the rooms. More than one cast her a worried look, but she pushed on.
Gil stood empty-handed at the foot of the stairs, conversing with a man in armor made of metal plates sewn to leather. “They won't stop me, and neither will you. You can stay and hide or you can help. It makes no difference in how many I'll cut down.”
“They'll dig you no grave here,” the man replied.
“There won't be a need.” Gil glanced back as he heard Thea approach. He nodded his appreciation when he saw the bags. “Come. We have a head start.”
“Ahead of what?” she asked.
“Your funeral,” the armored man said.
Gil took her arm and tugged her toward the door. “Raiders from the mountains. Attracted by the festivities last night, no doubt.”
Thea pulled back. “Then we should stay and help.”
“Wehave somewhere to be,” he growled through clenched teeth. He opened the door and held it wide with a foot so he could pull her through. No matter how firmly she put down her feet, she wouldn't have been able to resist. He was too strong.
