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“I won’t stand for it,” Mr. Kay warned, but Evan was already taking Ellery’s place at Conor’s side, helping him up the stairs.
“Come. Help me get him back to bed.”
Ellery glanced back.
“Evan.” Mr. Kay stood between the dart players, his face splotched with unreleased fury.
Evan never even paused or answered. “Are you sure we can stay?” Ellery asked. Evan dropped Conor’s unresponsive body back onto the rickety bed. “Only until he’s well enough to travel. Those men downstairs can be bought or threatened, but not for long. I can’t guarantee your safety more than a day or so. Once an Other reveals himself, it’s safer if he disappears.”
“Other,” she hesitated, “Others come here?”
Evan straightened from tucking the blankets around Conor. “Many. This is a place of refuge.”
“Some refuge.”
“My brother-in-law worries over his sister and his daughter living with such people.” Evan offered her a smile. “And being dependent on my charity also grates on his disposition.”
“But what can I do?”
“Rest. Sleep. He will mend, or he will die. That’s the way of mage sickness.”
Perfect. Mend and she had to confront the fact that her traveling companion was part wolf and may be her father’s killer. Die, and she had to face the Keun Marow alone. Neither one a thought to make sleep come easier.
“Well?”
Conor woke to Ellery spinning in a circle, showing off a dress of sprigged muslin. Was this another dream? He’d been drowning in a swamp of hallucinations, each nightmare ending with his waking—or so he thought until the next nightmare began. So he couldn’t be entirely sure. Although, he had to admit that this one was a thousand times better than any he’d had yet. “Are you real?” His voice sounded thick and croaky. He cleared his throat. “Or are you another bad dream?”
“So I’m a bad dream now, am I? That’s rich.” Conor pushed himself up on the pillow, even though it made his head swim. He wanted to say he preferred the half-naked look, but doubted by the challenge in her eye that it would go over well.
What could he say? The cut was simple, the style plain, but Ellery’s height and generous curves filled it to perfection. Even the color suited her dusky skin and picked up the brilliance of her blue eyes. She brushed the bed, and it took all his will to stop himself from dragging her by the skirts in beside him. Then reality hit, and he felt sick all over again.
“It’s better for traveling,” he answered lamely. “A lot of buttons, though.”
Her expression showed exactly what she thought of his answer. “You’re just grouchy because I won’t let you get out of bed until you’ve had a day to rest.”
“If you hadn’t forgotten, we’re being hunted.” She settled at the edge of his bed. “I haven’t, but thank you for reminding me. We won’t be any better off if you fall ill again on the road. At least here, we have a roof over our heads.”
“You take great stock in ceilings,” he commented.
“Try living without one.”
Her eyes stole to the window. When they met his again, the earlier light in them was gone. Hesitation and worry clouded their depths.
“Do you remember last night?”
Oh God, what had he done? What had he said? Had he tried groping her in his sleep? Or stolen a kiss? Did he snore? By the look in her eye, it was much worse. He had a moment’s panic that she’d found out the reliquary’s secret, but no. She would have been long gone if she’d made that discovery. “Very little,” he answered, vying for time. “I expect you’re about to fill me in on the gruesome details.”
She twisted her hands in her lap, shifted about on the bed. Sighed. She was vying for time too, it seemed. Finally, she spoke. “I’ve been thinking since you woke how to speak with you, what words to use to ask the questions.”
“I hadn’t considered you the timid type.”
“I’m not. Straight forward and bull-headed, that’s me. But that’s when I’m dealing with the world I know. You’re from an entirely different world where different rules apply. You tell me to trust you. You tell me I can’t understand. But damn it. I want to understand. I deserve to be trusted in return.”
Clanging anvils filled his head, he felt like something scraped off a boot heel, and now Ellery was carping at him. He closed his eyes.
“Don’t you get sick on me again, Conor Bligh. I want to—” The force of her thought pushed through the pain. “A Heller,” he spoke over her, not allowing her to finish.
“That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it? I’m what they call a Heller.”
