I turned back to the king, my face a careful blank. "I trust that I have settled any doubts that you have, my king."
He looked from me to the smiling court. "I have no doubts about you, Wardwick of Hurog," he said graciously.
I bowed once again, carefully so as not to upset my precarious balance. As I stood upright, my eyes met Jade Eyes's gaze and knew bloodlust. Child of my father that I was, the desire for Jade Eyes' death momentarily consumed me.
The king waved his hand in dismissal and called to his chamberlain for his next case as if he'd forgotten about me. But I saw the white-knuckled grip he had on his throne as I walked past him toward my family. I put a casual arm about Tosten's shoulders and whispered "Out, now" around my wide smile.
Tosten slid his arm under my cloak and unobtrusively half carried me out of the court. Beckram and Duraugh fended off well-wishers, so when Tosten dragged me into the corridor, we were alone.
"Someplace out of sight. Quickly," I said, feeling the weakness increasing in my knees.
Tosten leaned me against a wall and jerked open several doors. He hauled me through the last one, shutting the door behind us. Light came through the open windows from the garden and I could smell the faint scent of autumn roses. I sat abruptly and concentrated on breathing.
"You've lost weight," observed Tosten, crouching next to me where I'd collapsed on the floor. "But you're still too heavy for me to carry."
I nodded, but instead of speaking I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to quit shaking. He said something more, but I couldn't hear it because the sound of my heartbeat drowned it out. After a few minutes the shaking eased and I rested my head against the wall in relief.
"We can't stay here forever," said Tosten. "Someone's bound to notice."
"How far are we from your rooms?" I asked.
"We're not staying here. Duraugh rented a house—I gave him the money from the strongbox in your study to help pay for your rescue. I hope that was right."
I didn't want to sleep under Jakoven's roof, but I didn't see how I was going to get from here to a rented house without causing a scene.
"How do I look?" I asked.
"Like you've been poisoned and are waiting to die," said Tosten. "But in the dim light in the corridors of the palace, I don't think that anyone who didn't know you would notice. It's getting dark outside as well. I think we can get you out without attracting attention."
I slid myself up the wall with Tosten's help. When my legs didn't immediately collapse under me, I walked slowly to the door. "Did you bring horses, or am I going to have to crawl all the way there?"
"Horses," said Tosten, wedging a shoulder under my arm. "Uncle Duraugh, in a fit of optimism or a show for the audience—I'm never sure with him—even brought an extra for you."
When we stepped back out of the room, Duraugh and Beckram were in the hall waiting. Neither of them spoke, but I had learned to recognized the slight tightness in Duraugh's cheek that denoted white-hot rage, and Beckram was shaking with it.
"I'm all right," I said, though it was patently untrue. Beckram slid under my free shoulder and helped with the task of getting my unwilling body out of the castle.
There were things I needed to know, things I needed to tell them all, but I contented myself with staggering to the stables. The grooms tactfully didn't notice that I had to lean against the wall while my brother pointed out the horses to be saddled. They'd put it down to too much drink, unless someone questioned them, and forget about it before the day was over.
When Tosten appeared with Feather, I buried my head against her neck and let the clean smell of horse wash away the stink of the Asylum. I tried twice to mount on my own, and if Feather had been any lighter, I'd probably have pulled her over. Beckram, with a shoulder in my rump, made my third attempt successful.
I don't remember riding through the gates or arriving at the house. I do remember being met at the door by Oreg, who picked me up and carried me up the stairs as if I didn't weigh half again what he did.
They fussed over me for a while, my brother, cousin, and uncle, while I scrubbed in an oaken tub, then sat while Oreg went through my hair with a comb to rid me of lice and nits—which the king's men hadn't bothered to do.
"Ciarra and I have a daughter," said Beckram, leaning back on his stool to keep out of Oreg's way. "Three days ago. I just found out today."
I looked out from under the clean wet hair Oreg had thrown over my eyes. For a minute we grinned at each other.
"Does she have a name yet?" I asked, stammering a bit.
"Leehan," he answered. "After the spirit of the woods."
"There are a lot of your men here. Is she at Hurog?" Surely they wouldn't have brought her all the way to Hurog when she was so near to delivering.
"No. We left half the guard there—she said she was fine. The king's men left as soon as Mother convinced them that Father and I were on our way to Hurog."
I rubbed my face tiredly. It was so hard to gather my thoughts, harder still to order my tongue.
"I think it's dangerous," I said. "You need to get her to Hurog."
"Ward," Duraugh said, "she's just given birth. She's not up to the ride to Hurog. What makes you think she's in danger?"
"Jakoven," I said. "Get all of our blood out of Iftahar—it's not a fortress. Hurog is better defended even now."
"I would think Jakoven more likely to lick his wounds and try again," said my uncle.
"No," I said, rubbing my forehead. "It's important to him now. He'll act immediately. We need to get Ciarra and the baby to Hurog."
"I'll go," said Beckram, hearing the urgency in my voice. He stood up as his father started to argue. "If Ward says they're in danger, I'll move them to safety."
Duraugh shook his head at both of us, but said only, "Sleep the night, then, and leave at first light. It won't help her if you break your neck galloping off in the darkness."
Oreg helped me stand and poured warm water over my head as Duraugh and Beckram worked out the details. Shivering even in the warm room, I huddled in the toweling Oreg brought me and wished I felt clean. Tosten handed me fresh clothes and I struggled into them.
They managed me into another room, complete with fire and bed, and Oreg bullied everyone else out. He stayed, a silent sentinel. But even his presence couldn't make me feel safe.
I didn't sleep. Didn't want to sleep. There were too many things running about in my head. I just lay still with my eyes closed.
Jakoven wanted power and he thought my blood might be the key to using Farsonsbane. My blood, or the blood of someone in my family—descended from dragons as we were. Oreg had said as much to me.
Jakoven wasn't going to let us retreat in peace for long. Gods forbid he find out what Oreg was.
Alone, Hurog could not stand against the king, but if I threw Hurog behind Alizon, some of the Shavigmen would follow me. And if the rebellion took fire before Jakoven managed to get me or another Hurog-blood in his hands again to activate the Bane, we might be able to hold the king off for a few months.
But my objections to the rebellion were still valid. Essentially, there were too many nobles who would stand behind the king. In the end we would lose.
While I tried to chart a course with a possibility of survival, I was dimly aware of the door opening quietly and a murmured argument. The door shut and I was left once more in silence with my fears, but not left alone.
Every plan I came up with led to disaster sooner or later. I was in the middle of trying to see how we could lure the Seaforders to Alizon's cause (something I wouldn't have dreamed of without the Warder of the Sea's little speech), when I experienced another of the debilitating bouts of miserable shaking. This time I itched as well.