"Barborough might have lied about that."
It was a sobering thought. Lord Barborough, the Vytill spy and magical expert, had seemed like he was telling the truth, but how could we know for sure?
"All the more reason to keep it hidden," Dane said. "And for no one but me to know where it is. Barborough can't be trusted. He might have been the one to break into Josie's house and tie up the Ashmoles so he could search the place unhindered. I won't risk anyone's safety."
Not a single guard grumbled. They trusted Dane.
"You no longer think it was Brant?" I asked.
He hesitated. "It could have been him."
He got up and limped to the door. If I hadn't been looking for the limp, I might not have noticed it at all, it was that slight.
"Captain, may we speak in private?" I asked.
He paused then gave a single nod. "I was on my way to meet with the dukes to discuss security. You can walk part of the way with me."
He held the door open and I brushed past him. The touch was fleeting, impersonal. I ached for more. We'd shared too many tender moments for me to accept this standoffishness. Perhaps when I got him away from his men, he might be more like himself again.
"Meg?" I asked. "Will you be all right here?"
She offered me a shy smile and a nod.
"We'll take care of her," Quentin said. "Won't we, Max?"
Max got up to refill Meg's cup only to have Quentin take his seat. The youth beamed at Meg.
"Did you know I'm learning to become a doctor?" he asked.
"No, no, no," Erik protested. "That is not good talk for a pretty lady." He turned to her. "Tell me about you. I want to know everything."
"Oh." Meg blushed again and glanced over their heads at Max.
He smiled weakly and refilled her cup.
I walked with Dane along the corridor, one of many in the maze of passages that connected the service rooms to the more opulent ones inhabited by the nobles. This corridor was empty, the only sound that of our footsteps on the flagstones. I knew from experience that the closer we drew to the palace's better rooms, the busier these hallways would become with footmen and maids going about their work.
I put a hand to Dane's arm to stop him. "Can we talk here? In private."
"Of course," he said matter-of-factly. "Is this about Brant?"
"No, but I do have questions now that you've brought him up. Have you seen him since he ran off after the king's death?"
"He's here at the palace."
"As a prisoner?"
"No. If I put him in the cells, he'll be too easy to find. I suspect if he's found by the dukes or advisors, he'll be executed for murdering the king. I prefer not to have that on my conscience."
"Is it wise to have him roaming free?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. "You're questioning my decision."
"No! No, I'm not. You know him best, and if you think he isn't a danger then I trust you."
His gaze narrowed. "You are questioning my decision."
"I wouldn't dare. You're the captain of the guards, and I don't even belong here."
His eyes turned smoky. Or it could have been the poor light cast by the wall torches playing tricks. "Some would say you belong here as much as anyone."
"Are you one of them?"
He lowered his arms and walked off. "You can come here whenever you like. You're most welcome."
"I'm not finished yet."
He stopped up ahead. "There's more?"
I indicated his foot. "How is it?"
"Fine."
"Then why are you limping?"
"I'm not."
I tilted my head to the side. "I've seen men limping before, and I've seen men attempt to disguise their limp. You fall into the latter category. Remove your boot and roll up your pants leg. I need to inspect the wound."
He settled his feet a little apart. "I have somewhere to be."
"It'll only take a moment."
"It's too dark in here. You can't see properly."
I removed one of the wall torches. "Any more excuses?"
"It'll hurt," he said with a pout in his voice.
I laughed. "Not as much as it will if it gets infected. Do as I ask or you might be worse off if it's not healing properly."
He sighed and undid his bootlaces. "You're a dragon."
"A dragon who's going to make you feel better." I bent to inspect the wounds left by the teeth marks of the trap. Most were healing well but the deepest was red and swollen at the edges. "You need to put anneece on this before it gets worse."
"Do you have any?" he asked as he rolled his pants leg down again.
"You have to buy it from Mistress Ashmole. Rub an amount of the salve onto the wound to thoroughly cover it then wrap a bandage around the area. That will keep the anneece from rubbing off on your clothes or the bed sheets. Do that day and night until the redness disappears."
"I'll buy some when I'm next in the village."
"Today, Dane. The sooner you treat it, the quicker it'll heal. Leave it too long and the infection will fester. If you can't make it to the village, I'll buy a jar myself and bring it back this afternoon."
"Very well. Balthazar will give you some coins. And Josie?"
"Yes?" I said, too eagerly.
This time I was sure his gaze softened as it settled on me. "Be careful."
I wanted him to say more, something intimate and tender, just a few words to lift my heart until I saw him again. But he did not.
"The danger is largely over now," I said. "Barborough doesn't need me to gather information for him."
"The Deerhorns might still be a threat."
"They'll be too occupied with matters affecting the realm."
"I hope you're right." He inched toward me only to stop. His focus sharpened, captivating in its intensity. "I worry about you in the village. It's too far away from here. From me. I can't keep you safe."
I took his hand. The soft leather of his glove warmed my fingers. "I'll be careful. I'm with friends."
He didn't look convinced but said nothing as he turned away.
I didn't see the figure but I heard his racing footsteps a moment before his arm circled my throat from behind. I didn't need to see him to know it was Brant. His odor was more fetid than usual but it was distinctive.
Dane whipped around, drawing his sword in the same motion. His eyes were cold now, flat, his features set. "Let her go or I will run you through without hesitation."
Brant's arm tightened, a noose around my neck.
I scrabbled at it, gasping in air and succeeding only in choking. Brant's low chuckle and hot breath made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Let her go!" Dane shouted.
"Not until you give me the gem."
Chapter 2
"You kill her, and I'll kill you," Dane said. "It's a simple equation, Brant. Let her go and I'll spare your life."
"Give me the gem," Brant snarled.