“I didn’t drag this fool into anything,” Garrett argued. “He came upon us as we were leaving Farfield, and he practically begged to help. ‘Sounds like an adventure!’, he said. ‘I could find fame and fortune and save a pretty girl!’, he said.” Garrett rolled his eyes then stuffed a pillow behind Athan while giving him a stern glare. “And stop moving! You think I enjoy watching you writhe in pain?”
“You think I enjoy being in pain?” Athan groused back but breathed easier now propped up by several colorful, beaded silk pillows. With a stuttering inhale and slightly less painful exhale, he looked between the two men who had yet to tell him what he really wanted to hear. “Speaking of saving the girl... Besides talk of a dragon, did Jenny find news of Dnara?”
Phineaus’s grin melted into a frown aimed at Garrett. “You have not told him?”
“I was getting to it,” Garrett replied with a scowl.
“Told me what?” Athan asked, the knife in his chest no longer satiated by the pillows.
“I didn’t think it best to rile him up,” Garrett continued as Athan now began trying to sit all the way up. It ended in Athan coughing and wheezing to catch another breath. Garret huffed and nudged him back against the pillows. “See! He’s not ready.”
“Ready for what?” Athan asked Phineaus in growing alarm as Garrett continued to avoid answering. “You know where she is, don’t you?!”
Phineaus opened his mouth then shrank away from the daggers Garrett’s eyes were throwing. “Is best you hear it from your best friend, this news.” Phineaus gave Athan a sympathetic look then closed the wooden panel and returned to watching the road.
After Phineaus departed the conversation as abruptly as he had entered it, silence lingered in the small room and hung as oppressively heavy as the weight within Athan’s chest. Garrett’s reluctance to share all he knew filled Athan with fear. Demroth could finish twisting the silver blade in his chest and take him; Demroth could take the whole world, for all Athan cared, as long as Dnara had escaped the snare around her life he’d help create.
“Please,” Athan said, reaching once more across the space between and resting a hand on Garrett’s knee. “Tell me what’s become of her.”
“A storm tore through a grove south of Haden’s Crossing,” Garrett began, his gaze cast across sunbeams. “The townspeople said it ended as suddenly as it had begun, and left broken trees and injured King’s Guard in its wake. Some swore they saw the shadow of a dragon crossing the moon, while others say it was the dark touch of Demroth. One thing they could agree on is that after the storm ended, the King’s Guard packed up their tents in the middle of the night and left in the direction of Carn at a pace marched by men chased by shadow.”
Garrett inhaled one breath then met Athan’s eyes as he exhaled the next. “A man delivering provisions to the camp said, as they were rushing to pull up their tents after having just nailed the spikes into the ground, he spied the King’s Sword himself, Lord Aldric, carrying a dark haired girl from the grove, and-” Garrett closed his eyes, his hand setting overtop of Athan’s. “And around her neck circled a collar.”
Athan’s heart stopped, and the silver blade took the opportunity to slice in deeper. He tried to form words, but he couldn’t breathe well enough to speak. A collar. Dnara had been captured and collared by the King’s Sword, and Athan couldn’t decide if it was a better or worse fate than what Melakatezra had offered.
“Breathe, Athan,” Garrett encouraged. “Jenny is on Aldric’s trail, and she’ll follow that bastard all the way to the Red Keep if she has to. She may even be able to get inside, being a blackrope.”
“And us?” Athan managed, trying to think of some plan for rescue despite the pain making it impossible to form more than a sentence. “Is that where we’re headed as well?”
Garrett grimaced and placed a hand on Athan’s shoulder, as if to keep him from leaping off the bench. “No. We’re on our way to Orynthis.”
“Orynthis!?” Athan pushed against Garrett’s prepared restraint. “That’s in the opposite direction from Dnara!”
“Exactly,” Garrett replied, his eyes narrowing and his expression stern.
Athan’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, which is exactly how his lungs felt. Through a series of coughs, he managed to reserve enough air to bluster at his best friend. “What do you mean, exactly?!”
“What’s the plan, forester?” Garrett scowled. “Going to run valiantly up the Red Keep steps, break down their massive gate and demand the king of Carnath give Dnara back to you?”
“Well, no, I,” Athan sputtered out another hacking cough and winced with a muttered curse.
“Going to sneak in, then?” Garrett offered with a tut of the tongue. “Coughing and wheezing past the guards through that maze of a castle, a castle you’ve never stepped foot in? That is, of course, if you don’t keel over first from whatever that raven mage did to you.”
“I can’t just-”
“Perhaps you’ll die in some grand gesture of gallantry!” Garrett said with a flourish and waving hand, striking his own chivalrous pose cast in sunlight. “I’m certain that will make everything right, erase all the mistakes you’ve made.”
Athan’s ire rose even if his body refused to. “Stop making light of-”
Garrett’s scowl turned venomous. “Oh, I am deadly serious, Athan. You are not going anywhere near Carn, and I will tie you down to this wagon if I have to. You are going to Orynthis.”
“But why!?”
“Because I don’t want to see you killed!” Garrett shouted back with a pained expression,
