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His thin chest puffed out. “Keegan.”
That told him absolutely nothing. Irritation flared, hot and sharp. “Where are we?”
“Your room.”
Fates give him strength . . . “This isn’t my room.”
“It is. Rena bought it. With alotof gold coins. Papa thinks she’s a runaway noblewoman who’s never had to buy a thing in her life. Timothy says she’s pretty. Garrett says she’s pretty too, but that you probably abducted her. Timothy thinks that’s stupid, because she’s taking care of you. Papa says you’re probably her bodyguard, or a criminal she ran away with to marry against her papa’s will. Are you a criminal?”
Grayson stared at the boy. There was far too much to decipher there, so he ignored most of it. “We’re at an inn?” he surmised.
Keegan bobbed his head.
Grayson’s uneasiness grew. “How long have we been here?”
“Three days.”
That didn’t make him feel any steadier on his feet, but he’d paused long enough. He grasped the door handle and pushed into a small hallway. A staircase on his left descended into a common room, filled with empty tables.
He hadn’t thought to grab any of his weapons, but he didn’t want to take the time—or effort—to go back for them. He needed to find Mia.Now.
Keegan’s light footsteps paused on the last stair. “Timothy said it wouldn’t take long. They’ll be back soon.”
Before Grayson could demand where they’d gone, the front door swung open.
A tall young man entered, and Mia was right behind him. She spotted Grayson and her eyes widened. “You’re awake!” She darted across the room and grasped his arms with cold fingers. “Fates, you should be in bed.”
He grabbed her waist. Touching her steadied him in more ways than one; he couldn’t ever remember feeling so weak and lightheaded. He studied her face, taking in every detail. She looked tired, but otherwise unharmed.
Mia stared at him just as intently. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” He wasn’t about to admit how frail he felt, or how badly his head ached. Not when Timothy watched them so closely.
“Thank the fates. I was so worried about you.”
“Where did you go?” he asked, still holding onto her.
“To look at a horse the village blacksmith might consider selling us.” Mia glanced at Timothy. “Could you heat some soup, please?”
The young man dipped his chin and strode from the room.
Keegan had edged closer to Mia, and she sent him a small smile. “Thank you for watching over him.”
The boy blushed—not that Grayson could blame him. He’d been around that age when Mia had thoroughly enthralled him with one of her smiles.
“I told him to stay in bed,” Keegan told her. “He didn’t listen.”
Her smile twitched. “That’s all right. Why don’t you get back to your chores? Your father will want them done before he returns.”
The boy sighed, but scampered off.
Mia focused back on Grayson, and her expression softened. “I’m so glad you’re awake.” She took his hand and led him up the stairs. “You really shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. Tobin says you need to give your body time to recover.”
“Tobin?”
“He’s a physician. He’s been treating you.” She glanced at him as they reached the top of the stairs. “You were very sick. You had a fever from the infection, and the powder Devon gave you was dangerous. Tobin said you can’t take any more of it—it contained something called olcain. It’s very addictive.”
Grayson said nothing, just squeezed her hand. They walked into their rented room, and Mia closed the door.
