She reached up, lay a palm upon his forehead, scanned his body, and saw the bite festering on his arm.
“Inside!” she said urgently.
She turned and hurried back inside, and Thor raced after her, carrying Reece. Behind him, the other Legion members took positions outside the door, the house too small to fit them all.
“Set him down there!” she ordered, frantic, gesturing to a stack of hay in the corner of the room. Thor hurried and set Reece down, and as soon as he did, the girl crossed the room with a sharp knife.
“Hold his arms!” she commanded, great authority in her voice, an authority that surprised him. “Grab his wrists!” she added, “and hold them firmly! Do you understand? He will fight you. Even in his weakened state. Do NOT let him flail. Do you understand?”
Thor nodded back, nervous, and she wasted no time. She leaned forward, took the knife, and in one quick motion cut deeply into the wound that was already festering, half of it black. She cut in a small area, right at the center, and Reece suddenly shrieked as she did, trying to sit up. He buckled like crazy, and Thor, sweating, did his best to hold him down. It took all of Thor’s might. He had never seen his friend like this.
She held a pan beneath his arm, and black liquid began oozing from the wound, filling nearly all of it. Gradually the oozing stopped, and Reece began to calm, breathing hard, moaning in agony.
She threw the pan of black ooze out an open window, set down the knife, hurried over to a stand, took a red ointment, and quickly rubbed it into the wound. It hissed, and Reece screamed once again. Thor did his best to hold him down, though it was not easy.
She wrapped a fresh bandage around Reece’s wound several times, then tried to calm him by laying an open palm on his chest, reassuringly, slowly easing him onto his back.
She held a palm to his forehead, pried open both eyelids, and examined his eyes. She let go and his eyes closed. She waited patiently, and after several seconds, his eyes fluttered, then opened. Thor was shocked: he looked exhausted, but alert.
“I feel better,” Reece said weakly, his voice hoarse.
“That is the poison leaving you,” she explained. “We may have just caught it in time.”
Reece licked his lips, chapped and dry.
“Am I seeing things, or are you the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?” he asked, sounding nearly delirious.
The girl blushed and looked away.
“You’re seeing things,” she replied. “Either that, or making fun.”
Reece grew serious.
“I swear I am not, my lady,” he said, eyes open, more alert, looking at her with urgency. “I must know your name. I think I love you.”
She reached up, took a small vial of liquid, opened Reece’s mouth and poured it in.
“My name is Selese,” she said. “You don’t love me. You love my medicine. Now drink,” she said, “and forget all of this.”
Reece gulped down the liquid, and a moment later, his eyes closed, unconscious.
Selese looked at Thor.
“Your friend will live, it seems,” she said. “But I doubt he’ll remember much of this. He was delirious.”
But Thor was of another mind. He had never seen Reece so smitten, and he knew he was not one to take love lightly. He felt that, despite his sickness, Reece’s feelings for her were genuine.
“I would not be so sure of it,” Thor said. “My friend does not speak lightly. I would not be surprised if he has found his love.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Godfrey walked with Akorth and Fulton down the back streets of King’s Court, on guard, keeping a loose hand on the dagger on his belt as he went. His eyes shifted, and he was increasingly paranoid in light of the week’s events. Godfrey no longer underestimated the tyranny of his brother’s reach, and felt he could be assassinated at any moment. He had become closer to Akorth and Fulton than ever, grateful to them for helping save him, and while they were hardly warriors, they were at least two more bodies, two more sets of eyes to stay vigilant.
Godfrey turned the corner and saw the sign for his old tavern, hanging crookedly, swinging in the afternoon, drunks spilling out of it, and he felt a sense of repulsion. A wave of anxiety overwhelmed him. He no longer felt comforted being here; now he just associated the place with his near death. He told himself that he would never walk through its doors again.
But he trudged forward, despite his fears, right through the open door, because he was determined. He was determined to bring Gareth down, whatever the cost, whatever the personal danger. There was too much at stake for him now, too much blood that had been drawn. He couldn’t just let this go and disappear quietly in the night. He had to find out who had tried to poison him, not for his own sake, but for the sake of them all. If he could prove the assassination plot, then legally it would be enough for the Council to depose Gareth. All he needed was a witness. One credible witness.
But in this part of town, he knew, credibility was a rare commodity.
Gareth and his friends entered the tavern, and several of his old compatriots stopped and looking his way. Their expressions told him that they were surprised to see him alive; they looked as if they were watching a walking ghost. He did not blame them. He also felt certain that he would die the night before, and that it was a miracle he had survived.
Slowly, the room came back to life, and Godfrey made his way over to the bar, Akorth and Fulton beside him, and they took up their old seats. The barkeep looked at Godfrey warily, then ambled over to them.
“I didn’t expect to see you back here so soon,” he said in his deep, shaky voice. “In fact, I didn’t expect to see you here at all. You seemed pretty dead last I saw you.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Godfrey responded.
The barkeep looked over, rubbed the stubble on his chin, then broke into a large smile, revealing crooked teeth. He reached out and clasped Godfrey’s forearm, and Godfrey clasped him back.
“You son of a bitch,” the barkeep said. “You really do have nine lives. I’m glad your back.”
The barkeep filled mugs for Akorth and Fulton.
“None for me?” Godfrey asked, surprised.
The barkeep shook his head.
“I promised your sister. She’s a tough one, and I’m not keen to break it.”
Godfrey nodded. He understood. A part of him wanted the drink, but another part of him was glad for the encouragement not to.
“But you didn’t come to drink, did you?” the barkeep asked, growing serious, looking back and forth between the three men.
Godfrey shook his head.
“I’ve come to find the man who killed me.”
The barkeep leaned back, looking grave, and he cleared his throat.
“You’re not saying I had anything to do with it?” he asked, suddenly defensive.
Godfrey shook his head.
“No. But you see things. You served the drinks. Did you see anyone last night?”
“Anyone who shouldn’t have been here?” Akorth added.
The barkeep shook his head vigorously.
“If I had, don’t you think I would’ve stopped him? Do you think I want you poisoned in my place? It upset me worse than you. And it’s bad for business. Not many people want to come in and get poisoned, do they? Half my clients haven’t returned since you keeled over like a horse.”
“We’re not accusing you,” Fulton chimed in. “Godfrey is simply asking you if you saw anything different. Anything suspicious.”
The barkeep leaned back and rubbed his chin.
“It’s not so easy to say. The place was packed. I can’t remember a stream of faces. They come in and out of
