“To see Arenadd,” said Laela. “Just makin’ sure he’s goin’ all right. An’ t’see if he wants any advice.”
Oeka clicked her beak. “You never stop trying to fuss over him, do you?”
The griffish term she’d used translated literally as “act like a brooding mother.” Laela scowled. “He’s so immature sometimes, he needs someone t’do it. Who else is gonna say no to him if it ain’t me?”
“I should not argue,” Oeka conceded. “You have a power over him I cannot understand.”
“Yeah, it’s called mutual respect,” said Laela. “Yeh might’ve heard of it.”
She ignored the guards outside Arenadd’s chambers and strode in without bothering to announce herself.
Arenadd was there, alone. He was slumped on a couch with his head back, staring at the ceiling. When Laela called his name, he barely moved.
“Hey,” she said, coming closer. “It’s me. Wake up.”
Very slowly, Arenadd dragged himself upright. His face was ghastly. Once his skin had been pale. Now it looked grey, and glistened with sweat. His eyes were dull, his expression slack and lifeless.
Laela felt her insides twist. “Ye gods, yeh look horrible! What’s wrong? Are yeh sick?”
Arenadd coughed. “Oh, hello.” His voice was low and weak.
Oeka nudged her human hard in the hip. “Laela, you should find a healer. He looks as if he is dying!”
“Arenadd, should I go and get someone?” said Laela. “Do yeh need. .?”
“Just get me some water,” Arenadd croaked.
She found a jug on the table and filled a cup for him. He fumbled with it as if he barely had the strength to hold on to it. But once he’d drunk the contents, he looked slightly better.
“There,” said Laela. “Better now?”
“A little,” said Arenadd.
“So what’s up?” said Laela. “I didn’t know yeh could get sick.”
Arenadd raised his eyebrows. “Neither did I.”
“Have yeh seen a healer?”
“The Emperor suggested it, but I refused,” said Arenadd. “I can’t let them find out what I am.” He shuddered. “And they wouldn’t be able to help me anyway.”
“Then what are yeh gonna do?” said Laela.
“I don’t know.”
Those simple three words sounded so unnatural coming out of Arenadd’s mouth that Laela didn’t know what to say.
Arenadd didn’t seem to notice. He grimaced and pressed his hand into the scar in the middle of his chest, where Erian Rannagonson’s sword had impaled him all those years ago. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he groaned.
Laela stepped closer, reaching out. “Are yeh all right?”
“It hurts,” Arenadd gasped. “It won’t stop hurting. . ever since we got here. .” He slumped again, breathing rapidly.
Laela knelt beside him, casting a desperate glance at Oeka. “Do yeh have any idea why it’s happening?”
Arenadd managed to pull himself up again. “It’s Gryphus,” he said. “He’s here. .”
Instinctively, Laela glanced over her shoulder. “What d’yeh mean?”
“He’s here,” Arenadd repeated, his voice riddled with pain. “This is his place. His land. The sun’s so bright here. It’s unbearable.” He gasped again and made a noise that sounded almost like a strangled scream. “Oh, Night God help me, why did I come here? I’m surrounded by sun worshippers; they’re all full of
Laela grabbed his hands. “Stop it. Arenadd, stop it. Calm down. Just breathe. In an’ out, slow like. C’mon. It’s gonna be all right.”
He breathed deeply and began to look calmer. “I’ve lost my powers, Laela.”
Laela could feel how cold his skin was. “What? What d’yeh mean?”
“I feel stronger at night,” said Arenadd. “Last night I tried to go into the darkness. . where I’m strongest.” He stared at the ceiling. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get there. The way. . just wasn’t there any more. I don’t know if I’m even immortal here.”
Laela felt sick to her stomach. “What about Skandar? Is he. .?”
“Hah.” The sound was half laugh, half cough. “Skandar doesn’t even know I’m like this. He’s been off this whole time, enjoying himself. He’s had thirty-seven different females since we’ve arrived here.” He coughed. “I counted.”
Laela had to laugh. “At least he’s keepin’ his end of the agreement. Arenadd-” She lost her grin very quickly. “Are yeh serious? Do yeh really think yeh ain’t immortal here?”
Arenadd nodded weakly.
“Well, for gods’ sakes, we’ve got t’get out of here!” said Laela. “We’ve got t’get yeh home an’ away from this damned place, before somethin’ goes really wrong.”
Arenadd pulled on her arm, using it to drag himself to his feet. “No,” he rasped.
“Arenadd-”
“
“Screw them!” Laela yelled. “You’re more important than them, damn it, an’ if-”
“No.” Arenadd waved her into silence. “No. If I leave now, this whole. . thing will be for nothing.”
“But what if you die?” said Laela, almost plaintively.
“I’ve survived worse,” said Arenadd. He was trembling slightly as he stood there. But his voice sounded as confident as always when he said, “Thank you for helping me up. But please don’t tell anyone about this. I trust you, Laela.”
“Lips are sealed,” said Laela. “Oeka, can yeh keep this to yerself, too?”
The small griffin had been looking on uncertainly. “You will know if I do tell anyone else,” she said.
Laela supposed that would be the best she could get out of her. “How much longer are we gonna stay here?”
“I’m not sure,” said Arenadd. “But I think”-he winced again-“the Emperor won’t be suspicious if I want to hurry things along. He’s a generous man. So, how are you enjoying yourself?”
Laela wasn’t fooled. “I like it fine here.”
“Good. Well. . you can go now. Get some rest.”
“Don’t yeh need me to-”
“No, no. I’ll be fine. Go on.”
Laela gave him a nervous and unhappy look, and left the room with Oeka skittering along after her.
As Laela disappeared, Arenadd had a sudden, wild urge to call her back. He said nothing. Exhaustion and pain gripped him, and he turned to slump back onto his couch, but paused when he noticed something on the floor. It looked like a scrap of old cloth-Laela must have dropped it on her way out. Arenadd picked it up.
Every bone in his body screamed in protest when he sat down. He felt as if they could shatter at the slightest impact. His entire body felt hideously fragile.
He waited until the pain died down, telling himself again and again that the day was nearly over. Night would come soon-blessed, cool night. All he had to do was hold on until then.
When he felt a little better, he examined the piece of cloth, wondering vaguely why Laela had been carrying it.
There was writing on it. Arenadd squinted at it. It took him a few moments to realise why it looked so odd-it was written in Cymrian. He hadn’t read anything that wasn’t in his own language in a while. Parts of it were smudged out, but he managed to decipher the gist of it.
“‘How are you?’” he read. “Something, something ‘not very’. . ‘come and see you’. . ‘I love you very much’?” Arenadd chuckled to himself. A note from Yorath, no doubt. Odd that he would write it with charcoal on a piece of cloth, though. And why would he have written it in Cymrian?
