“Don’t touch me,” I said. “You want to help me? Go back and force the soldiers out of Cliffton!”
He tried to pull the bag from my shoulders, but I held on to it.
“Syd,” he said calmly. “Be reasonable. I know it’s heavy. Please, let me take it for a while.”
“Are you hard of hearing?” I asked, the words coming out in a furious storm. “Leave me alone!”
North held up his hands in surrender, and we spent the next few hours in silence, with only the sound of the bugs in the tall grass and the dim lights of a distant city to guide us. The moon was under a cover of clouds, which didn’t make navigating through the fields any easier.
With my eyes on the city ahead, I didn’t see the hole at my feet. I did, however, feel it as my body careened forward and the ground rushed up to meet me. My chin came down hard against the ground as my fall knocked the air from my lungs. I wasn’t sure how long I was on the ground, but I couldn’t pull myself back up, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
North’s heavy boots came shuffling toward me.
“Don’t,” I protested weakly.
His hands lifted me to my knees and released me just as quickly. He removed the bag from my shoulders and placed it over his own. I felt better immediately, but it didn’t stop the hot tears that spilled onto my cheeks all the way to Dellark.
Somewhere amid all his ramblings, North had mentioned that Dellark was a major port on the river. I saw several wooden ships, but mainly I saw bridges, dozens of them, maybe even hundreds. The bridges over the river were wood, rising and falling with the passing ships. Those that rose over the streams branching from the river were smaller, built from the same old gray stone as the buildings. It was an intricate network—a maze, truly.
Above us, the purple banners of Palmarta were flapping in the evening’s breeze. North and I crossed two of the larger bridges before I stopped outside a grim-looking tavern. The sign hanging above it had rotted to the point that the wording on it was indecipherable…but I had to stop. If I moved one more step, I was sure I would collapse.
“I have a little money if you want to sleep inside tonight…,” he began.
“Here,” I said.
“Fine.” North pushed the door open, his dark hair hiding his face. He looked filthy, but I probably looked worse. It only made me despise him more.
North dropped our bags down at the only free table and headed straight for the large blond man behind the bar. I dropped down into my chair and rested my head against the table. There wasn’t a part of me that didn’t throb with exhaustion. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I hardly noticed the uproar of laughter and song. On the wall opposite me were two portraits, one of the king when he was still young and beautiful, and the other of the fair-haired, blue-eyed Queen Eglantine.
My eyes drifted shut against my will, but I couldn’t slip into sleep. The smell of a pipe from across the room instantly recalled dinners at Henry’s house, his father puffing rings of smoke to amuse the twins. Was it possible…?
I brought my head up to see where the smoke was coming from, looking past North at the bar, around the animal heads and dead fish mounted on the walls to a far, dark corner. The man smoking the pipe wore a pale overcoat and a hat that covered his eyes. It wasn’t Henry’s father—of course not—it was just my stupid mind playing tricks. As if sensing my gaze, the man leaned forward in his seat and gave me a slight nod. For a moment, it looked as though he would stand.
A plate slammed down in front of me. I glanced at the shreds of meat and pile of vegetables and pushed the plate away.
“This is all he had left for the night,” North said, settling across the table. “Sorry it’s not much.”
He had his own plate, strangely less full than mine, and two pints, both for him, I realized. He downed one in a single swig and reached for the next.
“You know,” he continued, “I get that you’re angry. I know you don’t want to be here with me, but you not eating isn’t punishing me. You can starve yourself all you want, but it won’t do anything other than slow us down.”
“Why did you bring me, then, if you knew I was only going to hold you back?” I asked.
North glanced up at the ceiling.
“Tell me,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
“I don’t know. Perhaps I thought that burning hatred in your eyes would give way to some faster walking?” North stood up to refill his pints. “I just wanted a lovely assistant?”
“Don’t you mean slave?” I called after him.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Assistant, though, if you’d prefer…”
He was right not to finish that thought.
I waited until his back was to me before I looked down at my plate again, my heart fighting with my stomach. I would eat it, I thought, but only because I needed to be strong enough to keep going tomorrow. We still had an entire country to cross.
Looking up to make sure he wasn’t watching, I brought a spoonful of vegetables to my mouth and didn’t stop eating until the plate had been cleared. And even then, I was still hungry.
North had had only four pints, or at least four pints that I had seen, when he lurched forward in his seat.
“Syyyyd,” he whined. I turned my head away sharply, disgust settling in my stomach like a rock. The man in the pale overcoat was still there, hours later. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to dodge his gaze.
An hour later, the tavern still throbbed with life and offkey ballads, but my head just throbbed in pain. And North? He was singing at the top of his lungs in the midst of them all. His usually deep and melodic voice was hoarse by the time he collapsed back into his seat. Another man sent an appreciative pint his way, which I promptly poured out at his feet.
It was like watching a man transform into some kind of beast, I thought. North’s unshaven face, usually lit with a carefree ease and an uneven grin, had taken on a pinched expression. The dark eyes that I once had thought kind, even intelligent, were glassy and framed with red. The sharp angles of his high cheekbones flushed pink with fits of laughter, which rang out loudly and unevenly over the deafening clamor.
“Syd, Syd, Syd,” he said, shaking his head.
“What?” I asked flatly. “Can we go up to our rooms yet?”
“Rooms!” He laughed. “What makes you think I got more than one? I’m not a money bag, you know.”