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Finally, he went to the bedroom through the connecting door and collapsed on his bed.
Asara heard the door and bustled in. “Dear Elira, you took ages.”
“It hurts,” he mumbled.
“I’ll get you more of the peppermint tincture.” She started toward the privy room.
“I just took some and an extra mouthful to be sure, but it’s not helping.”
She frowned at him as she paused. “Maybe…it just needs to come out. Still, in a bit, try to sip some of your water here, and go slow.” She pulled the bottle from her pocket. "You still need your medicine. You have to take it every day so it works.”
She seemed awfully insistent that he should have his dose. It had to be poison. Maybe she planned to betray Oriel in some way, and take his Kingdom or something like that. She seemed to care about him, but people could pretend, and she wouldn't be the first person in history to stab a family member in the back. Aspen heard the faint splash of the “medicine” being added to his water.
“Here, drink a bit now.” She held out the water glass to him.
“Asara, I can’t. I don’t want anything in my stomach. It’s going to cramp up even worse.”
She pursed her lips. “Have a sip.”
He rolled away. “Later. I just want to sleep.”
The glass thunked on the bedside table as she spoke again. “Fine. Be stubborn.”
A little ball of anger formed in his chest. “The next time you shit your guts out and feel awful, I’ll force water into you even if you don’t want it. We’ll see how you like that. I want some time with nothing in my gut so maybe I can take a nap before I have to crap again.”
She was silent for a moment. “Fine. I’ll check on you in a couple of hours. Try to drink a bit. Sips. If you get too dehydrated, you’ll feel worse, and you’re sweating too.”
“I know. This isn’t the first time in my life that something’s upset my guts.”
She left without another word, and even though the room was comfortable, he grew cold. The glass seemed to loom behind him. The whole pitcher of pin juice was probably poisoned now. She wasn’t concerned about him staying hydrated.
She wanted him dead. He couldn’t avoid eating and drinking for days and weeks. He’d die. For a moment, he was almost tempted to chug the glass. Let the poison enter his veins and take him away. No more pain. No more dreams or memories.
But he’d made Oriel a promise. Hadn’t he suffered enough too? Aspen wanted to feel his arms again and even Roth’s.
Besides, if Aspen was dead, who would warn them?
He got out of bed, changed his clothes, pocketed his coin purse, and grabbed a dark cloak. With his dagger up his sleeve, he peeked into the hall to find it empty.
Aspen used the back halls, slipped into the servant’s passage, and hurried down. A few servants passed him, but they said nothing. He was sure it was a few he hadn’t seen yet, but they didn’t seem concerned. If he was in Asara’s home, he probably had a reason.
He went out a side door, across the grounds, and slipped into the stable. The horse he’d been given was supposed to be gentle, but he hadn’t ridden it yet. He told the stableman to ready it.
Asara wouldn’t have told anyone that he wasn’t to leave, and she probably didn’t think he was capable. From what Oriel had said, she must have known the trip to the Windswept Isles had been awful, and so far, he seemed content to stay right where he was.
Before he mounted the horse, he had a stab of self-doubt once more that told him he was being stupid and overthinking it. There was another reason for the bottle being blank and her insistence. His mind was so cracked, he saw danger everywhere and not just from men who might do unspeakable things.
“She’s gentle, m’lord,” said the stableman who obviously must have thought he was someone of importance.
“Er, right.”
If he stayed, he might never get the chance to warn Oriel and Roth. What if he wasn’t overreacting? King Leneer, Kard, and Zale wouldn't have wanted to risk Oriel’s life.
He mounted the horse and rode her out of the stables. She seemed placid, but he could tell she was fast. This wasn’t the time to test her out. The guards didn’t care about someone leaving, and they didn’t even glance at his hooded face. Once he was past the gate, the way ahead was clear, and he kicked her into a gallop.
Her hooves pounded the ground as she flew down the packed dirt road. The wind blew his hood back, and for a moment, he remembered him and Oriel galloping down the trail in the forest two years ago.
Time was of the essence now. Asara would soon realize that he was gone because he suspected her. She’d send men after him, and it wouldn’t be hard to make up a lie. She’d say he stole something, and they’d drag him back without a complaint.
