The Deceiver's Heart (The Traitor's Game 2) - Page 31

With a sympathetic sigh, Simon said, “You felt closed in, trapped.”

How could he have known that?

As my breathing calmed, I touched my face, almost where his hand had been. This moment had happened before. Deep inside, I knew that it had. But when?

“You’re remembering something.”

“I’m not. You just frightened me. If I feel anything when I’m around you, it’s a passionate, burning need to delouse myself. Never come that close to me again.”

Simon flinched at my words and gave me a long time to recover. Eventually, he pulled an apple from one of the satchels. “Can I come close enough to give you this, or shall I roll it over there?”

“You can give me water.” I had a plan and I had to stick to it, free of guilt, free of the emotions he stirred up in me. I just needed to escape and then everything would be fine again.

He smiled and handed me his water skin. I drank a few sips, then said, “Is there anything to eat other than apples?”

I was far too nervous to eat, but I needed him distracted while I dropped one terrador leaf into the water skin, then a second one. By the time he turned again with some bread for me, I had tucked the last leaf back inside my boot in case I needed it later.

While I nibbled on the bread, I offered the water skin to Simon. “You must be thirsty too.”

He stared at it a moment, then looked at me. “Are you feeling better?”

“I will feel better soon … I hope.” I followed that with a smile, so forced and false that I was sure he’d suspect the truth.

Instead, he smiled back and reached for the water, taking a long drink before recapping it and returning it to the pile.

Simon was about to have a terrible night, no doubt. I’d ask him to release the binding cord, promising to find some herbs to help him feel better. I’d get them, and by morning he’d be on his way to full recovery, and I’d be gone.

Now all I had to do was wait.

When Simon finally sat on his blanket, he asked me, “What if I’m right? Do you deny that Lord Endrick is powerful enough that he could have affected your memories?”

I shrugged. “I don’t deny his power, only his willingness to cause me harm. I’ve never been disloyal to him, not a day in my life.”

“What if you were?”

I groaned. “He saved my life, Simon. I remember very clearly waking up in Lord Endrick’s palace, feeling groggy and weak. He personally attended to me, asking me question after question to determine how much damage the fall caused.”

“Asking you questions to determine which memories to take and how to replace them with pure fiction. Who knows how much you told him while you were under his influence?”

My expression darkened. “How much I told him about what?”

He went quiet, almost as if he were biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything more. That was good. He needed to save his strength.

By the time the first drops of rain started to fall, he’d begun to clutch at his side and his voice seemed weaker as he said, “You’ll get wet if you try to sleep out there. Come back by me, beneath this ledge.”

“I will, after you release the binding cord.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You claim we were friends. Then treat me as a friend!”

He shook his head. “As you are now, Kes, we are not friends. I am your protector and nothing more.”

“No,” I countered. “You are a kidnapper, nothing more.”

He started to argue, then drew in a sharp breath and lay back on his blanket. “As you wish.”

I wrapped my blanket over my head to keep out the rain, but my eyes remained open, as I listened to his shallow breaths and occasional grunts of pain. The poison was working.

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