Page 43 of Seven Ways to Kill a King
Then her fingers slid carefully over Miri’s hair, and Miri felt herself pulling involuntarily away from consciousness.
She woke again near horses, twice more being jarred and jolted in the darkness, and though she couldn’t quite draw it from her memory, each time Ginger fed her the sweet, oily drink, she felt as if she’d done it half a dozen times before.
It was daylight when she finally refused the concoction. Her tongue was thick, and her eyes matted with sleep. Her head felt as if she’d been trampled by horses, and her body throbbed in so many places that she couldn’t sort where each injury was. “Water,” she croaked.
A small hand offered her a waterskin, and Miri took it gratefully, unsure where she’d seen the girl before or why there was a girl at all. A warm body rested beneath her, and Miri realized it was Cass.
The girl held a finger to her lips in a gesture to stay quiet. A figure behind the girl—who was Sarah, Miri suddenly remembered—leaned closer, and Miri blinked to clear her vision.
Ginger whispered, “It’s the first he’s slept at all. Better to let him.”
“Where…” Miri gulped. Her neck felt too big, stiff, and raw. She raised a hand to touch it and found a bandage at the base of her jaw.
Ginger waved her unspoken questions away. “The swelling will go down soon. You’ve taken quite a few hits, I’m afraid, and the jaw remains puffy and bruised, but the stitching went well. Shouldn’t have too much trouble with it after a few days.” She offered Miri a piece of bread, but Miri couldn’t quite manage to shake her head to refuse. “We’re nearly two days north of Ironwood, on our way to Ravensgate.” The girl glanced up at her, and Ginger amended, “You’re on your way to Ravensgate. We’ll be headed to Blackstone, to be sure.”
Miri tried not to remember what had happened and how the agonies in her body had been delivered, but she couldn’t look away from the memories—falling from the garderobe roof, slamming into the stone wall, landing on the edge of the battlement and being tossed onto the rampart, the shouting kingsmen, the swords and arrows, men taking arms against their own and fighters who had not been their own at all, and the men who had shouted, “For the queen.”
Miri’s head ached, and her stomach felt sour and hollow.
She could see Edwin’s eyes when he’d recognized her, the change in his expression, and the blood that had spilled from his wounds.
Miri retched onto the ground, covering her blankets as well, and the girl leapt back as Ginger moved to steady Miri.
“Easy,” she cooed. “Best not to strain.”
Miri coughed up the water she’d drunk, eyes running and arms shaking as they held her weight. Cass was suddenly behind her. His hands shored up her shoulders, and his words full of nothing but concern as the shivering started.
“It’s fine,” Ginger said. “To be expected. Hold her against you until the chill passes. Sarah and I will tend to the wash.” Ginger patted Cass’s hand over Miri’s shoulder before gathering the blankets in a bundle and stepping over two more sleeping forms.
Sarah carefully laid another blanket over Miri’s legs, and Cass drew her back to him, settling her into the warmth of his embrace. His arms were bare, and sweat beaded at his temple. It was summer, daylight, and Miri shook as if she’d been doused in cold water.
A large tabby cat strode onto Miri’s blanket then turned in a circle before settling against her leg.
Cass’s sigh brushed Miri’s neck. “Beast has been doing that for days. You’ve apparently won her approval.”
Miri coughed. “Perhaps she’s waiting for my death.”
Cass went very still behind her, and Miri regretted the words. She couldn’t continue, though, because another round of shivering racked her frame. She pressed harder into Cass, drawing his arms tight around her. And soon, despite the horrors behind her eyelids, Miri fell once more to sleep.
* * *
Miri had lostcount of the days on their journey to Ravensgate, but she knew her plans were well behind schedule. At first, she couldn’t bring herself to care, but Ginger had been right, and after the first week, Miri had felt more like herself. Her bruises were mottled in greens and purples, but the tenderness of each of her wounds had faded. She no longer needed tonics and wore only a small bandage coated in salve over the cut at her jaw.
The worst was not that she’d lost precious days but that in three attempts, she’d been caught twice. Miri was no fool. The attempts would only get harder as she reached kings who were more secure. It was too soon to tell what good she had done, but she’d heard the others talking about the men and women who had risen in their defense at Ironwood. Many had lost their lives, but many more had died at the hands of the kings and their sorcerers in the past. It was their last chance to set right the realm.
The king at Kirkwall would be partaking of his tonics even as they rode for the fourth king, and if she had planned properly, he would die in nearly a month. By the festival of moons, he would be either too ill or too dead to command his army. A few men of the queensguard Miri did not recognize rode with their party, and Cass had assured her that the way had grown rocky enough that their trail would be impossible to follow.
They no longer slept within the tent they’d been gifted by Hugh and Ginger, because Cass was queensguard, and until they reached the next kingdom, there was no need to continue the ruse. They were not husband and wife, and the other men of the queensguard were more than aware of the rules. The others, straight shouldered and firm jawed, were a stark reminder of how the guard was meant to behave. Their eyes had not lingered on Miri, and their tongues had never been loose. But Cass had stayed constantly near her, helping her onto her horse and with every task she attempted on her own. Miri had let him, not because she couldn’t have managed to suffer through the tasks on her own, but because he had needed to do it. And she had wanted him near.
Late into the evening, the last before Hugh and Ginger made their way to Blackstone and left the group, Cass and Miri sat under the stars in companionable silence, though she was certain he also felt the weight of what was to come. Two of the queensguard waited on watch, and the other sleeping near the seamstress and her daughter, while Ginger and Hugh’s conversation was a low hum inside what must have been a sweltering tent. Cass’s dagger flashed in the moonlight as it made endless trips between his fingers. The cat sauntered nearer and lazily dropped beside Miri’s leg.
Cass glanced at the beast with a smirk. Miri only shook her head.
Her neck was still tender, and when she stopped midmovement, Cass’s gaze was on her.
“It’s fine,” she promised. “I’ll be ready.”
“It can wait.”
