A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [98]
Despite the soaring altitude of his accommodations, despite strong walls and solid doors, despite the multiple guards keeping watch, Jason had never felt more vulnerable. Up until last night Copernum had lived in these quarters and slept in this room. He could provide assassins with keys and a thorough description of how best to gain access.
To imitate a slumbering form, Jason arranged pillows under the fancy coverlet fashioned from soft rabbit pelts. The deep mattress was generously stuffed with down. No bed had ever beckoned more deliciously, but he crouched down and slithered underneath, bringing a pillow and a pair of blankets. The bed stood high enough that he had several inches of extra space above him as he lay on his back, one blanket beneath him, the other covering him. A fabric skirt shielded the space beneath the bed from view.
Jason lay staring up at the underside of the bed, his poniard clutched in one hand. He had never felt so alone. He missed Rachel. Could she be irritating at times? Sure. But she was also smart, and fun, and he knew he could trust her. Seeing her in the throne room had reminded him how much he had grown to rely on her. She had become a real friend. He wished she could have remained with him today.
Earlier that day, after the contest, the regent and his retinue had departed, leaving Jason to be tersely congratulated by Bartley, who notably kept his distance thereafter. The gambling acquaintance in the fancy coat had escorted Jason around the throne room, introducing him to a series of individuals who congratulated him with varying degrees of warmth. From most he got the impression that they did not wish to be seen acting too welcoming. He met counts and countesses, lords and ladies, scholars, poets, musicians, and artists. Names and titles all jumbled together.
Later, during a brief meeting with the regent, Jason had related the threat made by Copernum. Dolan had told him to be careful, and had explained that such threats were a burden of all men who held high offices. Jason had also conveyed the threat to Norval, his bodyguard, a solid man with a thick mustache, who had promised to remain vigilant at his door all night.
Jason had watched for an opportunity to slip away from the castle, but he had been surrounded by attendants all day, faking his way through meetings until he was delivered to his quarters in the evening. While dwelling in a tall tower held certain protections, it felt as inescapable as a prison.
Under the bed Jason bit his lip softly. He had hoped for communication from Nicholas or Rachel, but none had arrived. So now he had to survive the night. Alone. Hopefully, the dark hours would pass quietly. He promised himself he would find a way to escape his new job in the morning.
His thoughts turned to home. What were his parents doing right now? Had they figured out how to care for Shadow? He expected his dog missed him as much as anyone. What was Matt doing right now? Or Tim? Jason wondered if they had grown used to not having him around. He didn’t feel like his whole self without them. He wished he could text them or call them up. What if he died tonight? How long would it take everyone to forget him?
The blankets began to feel very relaxing. It had been a long day, full of stress and confusion. He yawned, and shook his head to clear it. Soon he was slowly blinking; then he experimented with closing his eyes temporarily, just to rest them briefly. Sleep overtook him swiftly.
He awoke in the dark, certain he had heard a noise, feeling momentarily disoriented. His knife remained in his hand. He almost sat up before he remembered he was under the bed. Now that he was conscious and alert, Jason heard nothing. By the faintness of the glow against the material of the skirt he could tell that the embers had burned low. He waited,