The Warrior's Curse (The Traitor's Game 3) - Page 19

Then I drew in some of the curse, which seemed to create holes within me that could not be filled by anything other than the ice that was already there. Allowing the ice to expand was the only way I could continue my work, but even then, I finally could do no more.

No more than half, never more than half.

While I rested, I noticed a washbasin on the table beside him. I took the rag and tenderly washed Basil’s face, then poured a few drops of water into his mouth.

I gave him a little more strength after that, until his chest began to rise and fall with the deeper breaths he was taking. I was fairly sure I sensed some broken ribs, or hopefully they were only badly bruised, but I couldn’t heal them as completely as Loelle would. I could only give him strength to live.

I continued to give, feeling myself weaken, especially because it hadn’t been long since I had helped Darrow. And finally, I knew I had to quit, or I would have nothing left. I laid my head on the side of Basil’s bed and fell asleep.

Sometime very early in the morning, I felt a hand in my hair. Startled, I sat up straight and saw Basil watching me. His smile was thin and weak, but it was there. He was clearly struggling to keep himself awake, and he seemed to be having trouble speaking.

I reached for a cup and offered him more water. He took a few sips, then almost mouthed the words as he whispered, “Olden Blade.”

“Did you tell them where it is?” I asked. “Do they know?”

His eyes darted to the right and fear passed through them, but when he looked back at me, he shook his head, very faintly.

“Can you tell me where it is?” I asked.

He nodded and motioned for me to lean in closer, which I did. His head dropped back on the pillow, and for a moment, I was sure he had fallen asleep, but then I heard the words Lily’s grave.

I knew the exact moment when Kestra arrived. I felt it in Rawk’s arrival, his landing behind Woodcourt like a soft thud in my chest. But even more, I felt her nearby. I made a move to stand and greet her, but Harlyn put her hands on my shoulders and pressed me back into the chair. “I have to bind this wound. Do you want to bleed all over her for a greeting?”

She was being kinder than she needed to be, which only worsened the guilt I felt. But maybe that was because she felt guilty too.

While she worked on my shoulder, the guilt must have become too much, for when she spoke, it was with one long breath that sounded as if it had been rehearsed. “Before you speak to Kestra, I ought to tell you something. The night she left Nessel, I wasn’t part of the plan, but I knew of it.”

She waited for me to respond, but my chest had tightened and I didn’t trust myself to speak. If I did, I was sure we’d both regret what followed.

Finally, she continued. “She came into your room and saw the infection in your arm, how sick it was making you. I spoke with Kestra myself. I’m the one who convinced her to leave.”

“And what did you say to her?” My tone was flat, the best I could manage in that moment.

“She wanted to help, but we couldn’t let her, not without knowing what it would do to you.” Harlyn paused. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, but I’m certain what I said was hurtful.”

At first I couldn’t answer her, or even organize my thoughts to speak. All this time she had deliberately concealed this information, no matter how many times I had asked, or even insisted that I knew she was holding something back. I wondered if she would have told me this much if Kestra had not come.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I mumbled.

“To protect you.” She finished tying the bandage, then sat i

n a chair in front of me. “I meant what I said earlier, Simon. She could not be trusted then, no matter how much she loved you, and she cannot be trusted now. I’m here to protect my king, even if that means protecting him from himself.”

“You had no right to do that!”

If she noticed my anger, it didn’t seem to bother her. With an overly calm voice, she replied, “I had the obligation to do it. And I hope one day you’ll understand that.” She bit her lip as she considered what else she might say to excuse herself but must’ve come up with nothing. All she said was “We should join the others.”

That was the last thing I wanted, but if Kestra was going to be discussed tonight, I needed to be there. So I walked with Harlyn into a small dining room, where most of the Coracks had already gathered. I no sooner had taken a seat near Gabe when Tenger and Trina walked in with a boy our age with long black hair tied behind his back, reminding me of Gabe. But this boy’s eyes were sharper and darker, and seemed to be making a quick assessment of everyone present. I was assessing him too, wondering about his weapon of choice. Everyone in Antora had one, but he didn’t have the build of a person who was accustomed to the violent life in Antora. His hands appeared to be capable of work, but they looked too soft to be a farmer’s or a fighter’s, and he wasn’t well-dressed enough to be of the upper class. I was genuinely curious.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“His name is Joth Tarquin,” Tenger said. “Claims to know Loelle.”

Joth grimaced. “Actually, what I claimed is that Loelle is my mother. She sent me here with Kestra, for Kestra’s protection.”

That got my attention. “Protection from whom?”

Joth gestured around the room. “All of you.” His gaze returned to Tenger. “You’re the captain. You want to kill her and replace her with—” He pointed at Trina. “Replace her with you, is that right?”

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen The Traitor's Game Fantasy
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