I awoke next to a sensation in my leg so fierce that I shot up in bed and screamed. My hand went for my knife, but as had been common lately, it wasn’t there. So I kicked forward with my good leg and connected with someone who grunted and fell backward.
Hands pressed me down, and somewhere in the room Roden’s voice said it was only the surgeon setting my leg and to stay calm. I wondered if that was who I’d just kicked. If so, he deserved it for hurting me so badly.
The worst of the pain passed and eventually the hands released me. Someone tried to give me something to drink, but it was hot in my mouth and I spat it out.
I heard someone say Imogen’s name. And I lost consciousness again.
The next time I awoke, things were beginning to make more sense. The curtains in the room were shut, but narrow slits of light peeked through them. I groaned as I tried to roll over, and the next face I saw was Imogen’s. She radiated with a glimmer of light on her skin, which made me wonder whether the devils were playing a joke on me, and if she wasn’t really here.
“Drink this.” She helped me sit up enough to swallow a honey tea that both warmed and soothed my dry throat. Until then, I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was.
“Where did you come from?” I asked.
“Harlowe’s messenger caught up to Mott and me as we were leaving Dichell. We were on our way to the pirates, to come after you.”
“I told you not to go back to the pirates.”
“Yes, but you didn’t tell Mott, and unfortunately he was my ride.”
I smiled until it took too much effort. “You’re starting to sound like me. That’s not good.”
Rather than answer, Imogen offered me more to drink. I took it, then asked, “Are we at Harlowe’s?”
“Yes. He asked to see you as soon as you were coherent again.”
“I remember being confused,” I said. “But only because nobody could understand me.”
“Your body was in shock. The surgeon was surprised you survived the trip here.”
“Me too. Roden’s a terrible driver.”
“He had to travel fast. He knew the danger you were in.”
A door behind me opened and Imogen looked up and then motioned at whoever was there to enter. When Harlowe came around my bed, he bowed low. Imogen invited him to take her chair and said she’d return in a few minutes.
Harlowe sat, smiled grimly at me, then leaned forward with his arms resting on his legs.
“The thieves were going to rob someone.” It was important to make him understand that before anything else was spoken. “If I didn’t bring them here —”
“Then they’d have gone somewhere else and caused actual damage. I know. Mott explained after you left.”
“Mott didn’t know. I never told him.”
“But he knows you, and so he explained.”
“I’m sorry, Harlowe. I frightened Nila.”
“Nila was afraid for you, not of you.”
“How is she?”
“She’s adjusting, but she misses her parents.”
“I’m sorry for that too. I didn’t know the raids were happening.”
After clearing his throat, Harlowe said, “I tried to talk to the king — your father — not long ago. He referred me to his prime regent, Master Veldergrath.”
My stomach tightened. My contempt for Veldergrath was lower than my opinion of rats, if the one could be distinguished from the other. “He was dismissed as a regent last month,” I said. “But someone should’ve listened when you came.” It was hard to ask the next question, but I needed to know the answer. “Did my father know what was happening here?”
He frowned at me. “I don’t know. We tried to get messages to him, but I don’t know if he ever received them.”
It probably didn’t matter. I doubted my father would’ve had the will to stop Avenia if he did know. I laid my head back on the pillow and rested. After a moment I said, “That day I brought Nila here, you asked me to stay the night. Was that a sincere offer?”
“Of course it was.”
“Because of what I’d done for her?”
“Because you looked like someone who needed a place to stay.”
“And why did you give me your son’s watch?”
He hesitated, then said, “I didn’t know why you’d joined up with the thieves, but I knew you weren’t like them. I hoped the watch would help you remember your way back, maybe keep you from getting lost in their world.”
My eyes had become heavy again. Harlowe made a move to leave, but I asked him to wait. When he sat again I said, “You prefer to avoid the politics in Drylliad. Honestly, so do I. But Carthya needs you and I need a prime regent.”
Harlowe sat up straight. “Prime? That’s a title given for seniority amongst your regents. There are many others —”
“They’re all idiots. We both know that. Please, Harlowe, will you come to Drylliad?”
There was no hesitation. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
“I’m Jaron.” My words were beginning to slur and I knew more sleep wasn’t far off. “That’s my name.”
When Imogen had cared for me at Farthenwood, she was still a servant herself and subject to Conner’s orders. But now we were in Harlowe’s home, and it quickly became apparent that she was in control of every aspect of my care.
She forced food and water into me until I refused to open my mouth, tended to the cuts and scrapes on my chest and back, and stayed with me constantly unless someone else was there to visit. Through all that we said little to each other. I don’t think either of us knew the right words.
For the most part, I let her manage things without complaining. I did tell her later that same afternoon that it was time to return to Drylliad. I asked her to arrange for a messenger who would notify Amarinda and Tobias to find an excuse to leave and meet me in Farthenwood. There we could set everything straight before I returned to the castle.
“Don’t you think they’ll notice the king returning to Drylliad with a broken leg?” she asked, smiling.
“I might not be king anymore,” I replied. Even without Gregor, perhaps the vote on the steward had taken place.
Her response was interrupted by a knock on the door, and Mott was admitted into my room. Imogen again made an excuse to leave and he sat in her chair.
It was difficult to know where to begin with him. I knew he’d be respectful because of my title and the extent of my injuries, but I wanted more than that. I needed to know what it would take for him to consider me a friend again, if anything could. Apparently, he felt awkward too, because he spent more effort studying the floor than actually looking at me.
Finally, I said it. “I won’t apologize for what I’ve done. But I must apologize for how difficult my actions must have been for you.”
“Fair enough.” Then he added, “But for the record, I won’t apologize for my anger about your leaving. I’m glad that everything turned out as it did, but it was still far too reckless.”
“Agreed.” I paused, then said, “Although in the same circumstances, I’d do it again. Except for the part about making Roden angry enough to break my leg.”