AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Assessing her apparel took only seconds. Her gown was gone, her shift in tatters. What she had was a pair of worn walking boots and Conor’s jacket and coat. She would need to find a milliner’s shop in the morning, but tonight she needed an apothecary or a surgeon. She couldn’t leave Conor. And she couldn’t wander the village in what she had on. She would need to send someone. Perhaps the innkeeper. All that remained was the money to pay for it. She didn’t have any, but Conor must. He couldn’t conjure food or clothes, and she doubted he rode a straw besom from place to place. Men needed money. Even Others.
She turned out the pockets of his coat, then his jacket. Nothing. She searched his breeches, praying he didn’t wake while she did it. She wasn’t sure how she would explain her hands placed just so or the hot flush in her face. If past experience was anything to go by, he’d have her pinned to the bed, his lips teasing a path down her neck, nipping at the flesh behind her ear. She stood up, yanking her hands away, her stomach still quivering. Where did that thought come from? What was happening to her? She shook her head, focusing again on the immediate problem. Money. Or more to the point, the absence of it.
So perhaps Conor did conjure up what he needed with a spell or two and a flick of his wrist. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in a position to spin a few straws into gold. And Mr. Kay wasn’t running her errands without payment of some kind.
Telling herself it had nothing to do with the feel of his muscled body beneath her hands, she returned to his breeches. Passing them by the first time in her search, this time she drew out the contents of his pocket.
Two items. Both valuable.
The first, the pearl she had last seen pinned to Mr. Porter’s chest. A smile tipped her mouth. So he had done it. He’d recovered one of the reliquary’s stolen jewels. She could only imagine how. Mr. Porter wasn’t the kind to give up his riches without a fight.
Her eyes jumped to the sword again, but she dismissed the idea. She couldn’t say how, but she knew there were lines even Conor wouldn’t cross.
The second object Conor had hidden away as if protecting the Crown Jewels. His sister’s wolf-head ring.
The delicate gold work was exquisite, and Ellery couldn’t help trying it on. It stuck at her knuckle, but she forced it, and once over, it fit comfortably. She held it up, admiring the detailing in the animal’s face, its ruby eyes like twin drops of blood. She’d never seen anything like it nor worn it. Money went for necessities. You couldn’t eat jewelry.
She would use the pearl for the doctor. The ring, she would put back with Conor none the wiser. She tugged at it, but if it had been difficult getting on, it was impossible to remove. Perhaps some lard or grease would loosen it. The tavern’s kitchen could provide that easily enough.
“Ysbel?” Conor mumbled. His dull gaze swept the room.
“Ellery?”
She closed her hand over the pearl, hiding her arm behind her back. She had hoped he’d stay asleep until she had spoken with Mr. Kay. “Feeling better? I’ve ordered some broth. I’m just going downstairs to see about it.”
He wiped a hand down his face, grimacing as he tried to sit up. “Not going out like that, are you?”
“Unless you want to lend me your breeches and boots. It’s fine. I’ve done it once already. Your coat hides everything.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You obviously haven’t seen yourself if you’ve come to that conclusion.”
“You mustn’t be that sick. You’re still as nasty as ever,” she snapped.
He fought to rise, but just rolling onto his side sent him groaning for the pail. Ellery winced at the retching that went on and on, long after Conor fell back exhausted into bed.
“Mage…mage sickness…never like this…never so much.” His words faded out as he closed his eyes.
“I’m sending Mr. Kay for a doctor.”
But he was already asleep. And she hadn’t even thought to ask him if he had any money.
She opened her hand, staring down at the stone in her palm. She would explain once they were back on the road. He would laugh and praise her resourcefulness, and all would be forgiven.
At least that’s what she told herself over and over as she sought out Mr. Kay.
Ellery assessed the situation from the bottom step. The innkeeper stood behind a counter, wiping down glasses while he watched a darts game. The man who’d interceded for them earlier sat at a corner table, an untouched pint in front of him.
Mr. Kay glanced up. Catching sight of her, he stiffened, his face falling into long lines of displeasure. But when she gestured him over, he came.
“I need you to go for the doctor.” Sudden inspiration struck.
“Lord Bligh is ill.”
The title didn’t lessen the belligerence in Mr. Kay’s face. “His lordship got the money?”
“Something better.” She opened her fist, showing off the pearl.
“What’ll I do with something like that?”
