Page 48 of The Second Death of Locke
“If you’re sure,” Kier said. He did not say,If you’re sure we can let her live.
“I’m sure,” Grey said.
He woke Ola, who blearily agreed to keep watch but was awake enough to aim another firm glare at Grey.
“This is not going to be a good morning,” Grey muttered as they left the room, padding down the hall in their socks.
Kier sighed. “We’ll have a tactical meeting. Preferably out of town.” Grey’s stomach growled. “And over breakfast.”
“As long as Eron isn’t cooking,” she said.
She found her kit and sorted through the packets of herbs, labeled in Leonie’s hand. She picked out the appropriate ones and ground them together, then added water to make them into a paste. She sniffed it, wincing at the immediate trace of a headache, and handed the concoction to Kier.
“She has to ingest it,” she said.
“I’ll find a way.” He pulled a heavy ring of keys out of his pocket and hesitated outside the doorway. “You are still… Grey, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you nearly lost a battle. I think it’s best if I go in alone.”
Grey pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not pretty enough for you, Captain?”
He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You are a vision, even with blood clots in your hair. But I don’t know if all would share my depraved tastes.”
She sighed, but relented, going into the room with the packs by herself while Kier tried his best to poison the innkeeper.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes for Kier to work, but to her, it felt like an eternity. She set her medical kit back to rights and tried not to worry. She heard a door shut downstairs, then footsteps. He came back, leaning on the door frame.
“Did it work?” she asked, closing the kit and replacing it in her pack.
“She’s asleep,” Kier said. “We’ll leave her ample pay for damages when we go. Now we need to get moving.”
“After I examine Brit.”
“If Ola lets you close enough. She’s… not happy.”
Grey was not ready to think about that. “Where are the bodies?”
“Burned. In the woods. Eron and I dealt with it.”
“Mm.”
“There’s new clothing for you in there,” Kier said, nodding to a gray-green saddlebag they must’ve bought in the village. “And… not to put too fine a point on it, but it might be a good idea to clean up. I wasn’t kidding about the blood in your hair.”
She flipped him a rude gesture as he shut the door, leaving onlyhis laugh behind, ringing in her ears.
She did not have the luxury of time, so she raced through bathing. She scrubbed the blood out of her hair and off her skin, careful not to pull her stitches. The clothes Kier had gotten her were nondescript but softer than what she’d been wearing: a loose black shirt and black breeches, thick woolen socks, her same buckled leather vest. She liked the vest; it reminded her of a similar one her mother used to wear, and it had the close, heavy feel of armor.
He’d gotten her a new coat, too: heavy dark gray fabric, trimmed in black, with wide lapels and deep pockets. It was too big, but she preferred that. She folded it and left it on the bed, retrieving her kit to go check on Brit.
It was only Ola and Brit in the other room when she went in. Ola had moved the mage to the bed and was halfway through changing the bandage on their arm.
“I’ll need to look at those stitches,” Grey said wearily.
“What? Do you care now?”
She was too tired for this. “Of course I care,” she snapped.
“She did her best,” Brit said, eyes closed. “With the stitching, at least.”
“Not to remind you of your station,” Grey said, even though that was exactly what she was doing, “but leave off. And listen. Ola, I need you to tether to Brit—”
