Amy’s breaths grew ragged and loud. Crawling over to him, Bryce propped him up against a display case and began fanning his face.
“What if we can’t save him?” Bryce’s breaths became as concerning as Amy’s, but where Amy couldn’t get enough oxygen, Bryce gasped in far too much. “He’ll die because of us. And then we’ll go to prison. I won’t do well in prison, Courtney. I need Germ-X. I’ve been known tomoisturize. What if they torture us?I’ve read about those medieval stretching machines. I take back ever wishing I was taller.”
“I was only trying to save you, my lady.” Greg gave me one last pitiful look, his eyes welling with tears, then he scampered into the nearest hole in a wall. This was the problem with animal sidekicks. They caused more problems than they were worth.
I took a deep, shuddering breath. I couldn’t reasonably blame a mouse for thinking peanut butter would solve the world’s problems. Besides, there were other things to worry about. Exhibit A, Bryce on the verge of an anxiety attack. Exhibit B, Amy on the verge of dying.
Squatting, I placed my hands around Bryce’s upper arms and looked him in the eye. “Focus. I know you’re the Chosen One, but stop making the mentor’s tragic death all about you.”
Strangely, that steadied Bryce. He nodded, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand. “We have to make it look like an accident.”
“Oh mygod, Bryce. We have to save him. Stop freaking out.” I paced. “We need to find a doctor. Someone discreet.”
Amy let out a phlegmy snort.
“Shh, Amy,” I said distractedly. “We’re trying to think.” I snapped my fingers. “I’ve got it. Remember Leech Dude? I gave him a golden chair the other day. That’s how I got him to tend to you. I’m sure he’d help Amy without telling anyone about our involvement.”
“Amy will tell everyone about our involvement,” Bryce said, practically sobbing.
“No, he won’t,” I said darkly. “Will you, Amy?”
Amy quickly shook his headno.
I jerked my chin at Bryce. “Pack up and follow me.” The high-stress environment was familiar. Not wanted, but familiar. And I knew how to function in high-stress situations, even if I hated being stressed.
Bryce threw the gasping Amy over his shoulder and followed as I sneaked into the hallway. The physician lived deep in the city. We’d have to take the back way out of the castle so as not to be stopped. The problem was, I barely knew the front way.
Several wrong turns and near-misses with servants later, we emerged into the courtyard. It was a good thing Amy looked like he weighed as much as a large cat; otherwise Bryce never would’ve managed.
“We need a horse,” I said. “We’ll never make it on foot.”
“And what,” Bryce asked, panting as he readjusted Amy on his shoulder, “we stash Amy in a bush while we ask the groom for horses?”
I could ask Bryce to wait outside with Amy, but I didn’t think he was in any condition to help the old man if things got worse. If I asked Bryce to go in alone to get the horses, he’d probably panic-confess our entire accidental murder situation to the first person he saw.
“We’llWeekend at Bernie’sit,” I said with a lot more confidence than a plan that involved the phraseWeekend at Bernie’sdeserved.
“Oh yeah, that’ll be much less suspicious. Great thinking, Court. We’ll just ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ our medieval wizard mentor around the city.”
“He’s not dead yet,” I pointed out. “It’s like…Weekdayat Bernie’s. Far lower stakes. Here, set him on the ground between us, and we’ll prop him up together.”
Shaking his head, Bryce did as I asked. I threw Amy’s arm over my shoulder and wrapped my hand around his back for support. Bryce did the same on the other side.
Amy’s breath rattled moistly in my ear. “Perfect,” I said. “This is fine. Everything is fine.”
“You being supportive makes me feel like everything isnotfine.”
Together, we crossed the courtyard, Amy’s feet dragging between us. He was fading fast. When we entered the stable, a groom stopped sweeping and gave us a strange look.
“We need horses,” I said. “Chosen One business.”
“Is Amygronkphopoulozeetrop quite all right?” the guy asked, ducking his head to try to see Amy’s drooping face.
My hand that was around Amy pressed into Bryce’s side. Bryce was shaking, nervous tremors quivering through his muscles every few seconds.
“He’s fine,” I said firmly, trying to send a telepathic message to Bryce: You’refine.
“Are you certain?” asked the groom.
