“What would you have me do?” Lia asked, meeting his gaze. “Colvin is gathering victuals from the kitchen right now. We are to meet in the stables and take his and Edmon’s horses.”
“Of course,” he said with a choking voice. “Use the orb to elude the marauders in the woods. I am sure…” he stiffened with a wince, the pain so severe it stole his breath. When he was able to speak again, his voice was pale with weakness. “They…have…made it to the Pry-rian border by now. Or they are…nearly to Bridgestow and will ferry across…from there. You must…find Ellowyn. She was under…our protection. She still…is.”
Lia squeezed his hand harder. “Why did he do it, Aldermaston? Why did Martin betray you?”
He shut his eyes, sighing deeply. “He always felt…he was betraying Pry-Ree by not fetching her. He loves his people deeply. The Blight that struck…Pry-Ree…was so severe. He could not live there…like a sickness. A cancer.”
Prestwich bathed his forehead with a damp rag. He looked miserable.
“Are you going to die?” Lia whispered. “What will happen to the Abbey?”
He shook his head, thrashing it in the effort. “My pains…come and go. When it passes, my strength will return. I am old, but I have work yet to do. The Medium has assured me of that. The pain will pass soon.”
Lia bit her lip, watching his suffering with sympathy. “What if the Queen Dowager comes back…?”
“Hush,” he interrupted. “Would you bring her to us…with those fears…so soon? The Medium controls my destiny. I told you…that. Go, child. Help the Earl of Forshee find his sister. And Demont’s heir. I was certain…several days ago…that you would be going. Now I know why. Prestwich…I am going to be sick again. Fetch the basin. Go, Lia…leave tonight.”
Once more, she squeezed his hand, kissing his sweaty forehead and hurrying from his sickroom. Astrid was just beyond, pacing nervously.
“Will he die, Lia?”
She shook her head. “I do not know. You must help him while I am gone. Search the boundary each night. Warn him if you see any riders.” She gripped his shoulder firmly, gave him a stern look and then hurried to the kitchen. Pasqua and Sowe were fussing over the stores they had gathered and tied into linens and leather rucks. She had already fetched the Cruciger orb and tied it to her waist. While Colvin shouldered the burdens, she took her bow sleeve and three quivers of arrows. Pasqua stifled a sob and gave her a crushing hug. Sowe was more gentle and whispered in her ear, “Keep Edmon well for me.”
Lia promised she would and then left with Colvin into the dark. They crossed the Abbey grounds afoot, their stride marking their urgency to reach the stables.
“What did he say?” Colvin asked brusquely, his eyes unreadable in the gloom.
“That Martin was convinced Muirwood would fall. That Demont will as well. He has lived through this season before – when the Abbeys are destroyed and the Blight comes. He has always been loyal to his native land. Maybe Martin thought that because of her birthright, she will be able to reverse the Blight that has plagued Pry-Ree.”
“I should have foreseen this,” Colvin muttered darkly. “It is dangerous whenever there is a conflict of loyalties. You were right to confer with the Aldermaston. I am glad you did.”
Lia smiled in the dark. “I regretted I did not the last time I ran off with you. I have learned a little wisdom since that day.” Then she saw it. “There is a light on in the stables.”
“The groomsman?”
“No, he should be abed by now.” Again her hand went to the hilt of her gladius. Must everything be so difficult?
“Let me see who it is,” Colvin said, increasing his pace, but Lia held out her hand and blocked him.
“This is my duty, Colvin. We go together.”
Without trying to disguise her approach, she walked straight to the stable doors and thrust them open. Inside, she found two saddled horses – Colvin’s and Edmon’s. The third was being fitted by a crouching figure who rose when the door opened.
It was Dieyre. He glanced at them, his face flushed from the exertion of saddling the horses so quickly. “Where are we riding?” he asked, cinching the harness and adjusting the bridle.
Colvin stared at him in surprise and loathing.
Dieyre peered over his shoulder, snorting when he saw the look on Colvin’s face. “Please, Forshee, do not take this amiss, but I am coming too. You can draw your blade and get humiliated again in front of the girl, or you can recognize that I am a better fighter, a better rider, and equally interested in what happens next. I had a suspicion that if I lingered, one of you would wander back. Or she would lead me to you if I watched her like a kystrel. Do not start, Forshee! I am not speaking of amulets, I am talking of birds! There are two of you, you say. Fair enough. But why waste time fighting about this? I can help get you past Pareigis’ traps.”