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I highly doubted that was possible. But then again, by “reason” Draven probably meant “use his fists.”
I hesitated.
“What? What is it? You’re really this afraid of claws and a tail, are you?” Draven gave a wry chuckle.
“It’s not just that,” I said softly, glancing at the line of trees for any sign Whitehorn was returning.
“Then what is it?” His voice was sharp, impatient. “This is madness. Surely you can see that. You’re hurting yourself.”
My eyes flashed. “Madness? Or the king’s wishes?”
“Can’t it be both?”
I looked up quickly. Our eyes met.
“That’s treasonous talk.”
Draven snorted. “We’re a long way from Camelot. I think we’ll be fine.”
I thought of the royal house of Rheged. What were a few slaughtered kings and queens and royal heirs to Draven after all?
“You wouldn’t care either way, would you?” I said sarcastically before I could stop myself. Then I plowed on. What did it matter? Maybe if I told him, he’d understand. “You can’t tell Whitehorn.”
“I can’t tell Whitehorn what?”
“Just promise me.” Was I seriously asking an assassin to make and keep a promise to me? I sighed. “Yes or no?”
“Yes. Get on with it.”
I bit my lip. “It’s not just the... physical traits... that worry me. The medicine protects against other things as well.”
He was frowning. “What other things?”
“Changes to my mind. My desires.” I looked around hurriedly and lowered my voice still further. “You’re well-read. Well-traveled. You must have heard of such things. The bloodlust that some fae had.”
“Bloodlust?” Draven seemed amused. “They were warlike, certainly. But so are humans.”
“I mean, more than desiring war.” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “In one of the texts I found in the castle library, the fae were said to... to drink human blood.”
“Nonsense,” Draven said loudly. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Ever. And as you yourself said, I’ve seen and read more than you.”
“I never said you’d read more,” I replied, feeling rather indignant.
Draven ignored me. “Is that really what you’re afraid of? Turning into a blood-drinking monster? Put such a thought out of your head once and for all. It won’t happen.”
“How do you know that?” I shot back. “What if it did?”
For a moment he looked at me in silence, then he laughed. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You’d drink Whitehorn in his sleep?”
“Drink Whitehorn... Ew, that’s disgusting.” I wrinkled my nose.
Draven shrugged. “There? You see? You have no inclination towards bloodlust. And never have I heard of the fae doing such a thing. Besides, you were fine before your brother started this nonsense with the extra dose. So go back to what you were doing before.”
I looked down at the stones at my feet broodingly and kicked at the moss. “Perhaps. I’ll consider it.”
“You haven’t eaten or slept properly in a week, but you’ll ‘consider it’?” Draven rolled his eyes. “Excellent. I hope you’ll do so before you’ve lost the capacity for intelligent thought altogether.”
I glared at him and opened my mouth to retort, but just then Whitehorn appeared, still yanking on the flap of his breeches.
