The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [128]
The last few castle folk hurried before the artifact, faces pale as they glanced at the crumpled body at their feet. Then, blessedly, it was over.
Boreas approached the corpse of the peasant. “Here is our would-be murderer. The artifact will now be moved to the entry hall, and any who would enter the castle must pass by it. All other entrances will be sealed. From now on, no slaves of the Pale King will be able to enter this keep.” He looked at Aryn. “Is that not well, my lady?”
Aryn tried to turn her gaze away from the body but could not. This man had been a tool of evil; surely he had plotted against the king. Yet something told her this was not the one who had slipped poison into the prince's cup.
All she said was, “It is well, Your Majesty.”
Later that afternoon, Aryn paid a visit to Teravian's chamber to see how the prince fared, and to bear the news of what had happened in the great hall.
“How is our patient?” Aryn said when Sareth opened the door.
“Get your grotty hands off of me, witch!” came the prince's voice from inside the room.
Sareth grinned. “He's feeling better.”
Aryn stepped inside as Sareth shut the door. Teravian lay in his bed, and Lirith bent over him. A struggle seemed to be in progress. Lirith was trying to pull down the covers, and the prince was steadfastly holding them up.
“You're not going to cast any more spells on me.”
“I told you, I just want to listen to your heart. I'm not casting spells.”
“You bloody well could have fooled me.”
Lirith threw her hands up. “This is absurd. What am I to tell the king? That I let his son perish because he insisted on hiding under his blanket for no reason whatsoever?”
This was getting out of hand. Lirith looked as if she was about to pounce on Teravian, and the young man appeared quite ready to fight back.
Aryn touched her shoulder. “Sister, would you please speak with Sareth and me for a moment?”
Lirith cast one last glare at the prince, then followed Aryn and Sareth into a side chamber. Aryn pressed the door shut.
“What's going on?” she said.
The dark-eyed witch let out a frustrated sound. “The prince has suddenly decided I'm not allowed to touch his person.”
“I don't understand. He has a crush on you, Lirith. I should think he'd be happy to have you touch him.”
Sareth cleared his throat. “Forgive me, my ladies, but it's clear neither of you know what it's like to be a young man confronted by one whom you admire. At his age, certain reactions might not be entirely under his control.”
Aryn shook her head. “What do you mean?”
Sareth stroked the pointed beard on his chin. “Let's just say he might be worried that if Lirith examines him, his excitement might become plain to see.”
Aryn clapped a hand to her mouth, though whether to stifle a gasp or a laugh she couldn't decide.
“Oh, I'm terrible,” Lirith said, groaning as she flopped into a chair. “I never considered that. He must be utterly mortified. Sareth, can you help?”
Sareth opened the door and poked his head out. “Your Majesty, how about if I listen to your heart while the ladies stay in here, and I report to Lady Lirith what I've heard?”
Teravian nodded—blanket pulled to his chin—giving the Mournish man a look of utter gratitude.
Minutes later, Sareth returned to report that the prince's heart beat steadily. He tapped the rhythm as he had heard it on Lirith's wrist, and she was satisfied that all was well.
“It seems you are on your way to recovery, Your Majesty,” Lirith said, touching his brow gently.
Teravian sighed, then after a moment glared at Aryn. “What are you looking at?”
She smiled. “Nothing, Your Majesty.”
Her smile vanished. It was still so hard to believe Ivalaine was really the prince's mother. But now that she knew to look for the resemblance, she could see it in his eyes and in the fineness of his features.
“I'll return in the morning,” Lirith said to the prince. “Until then, I want you to—”
Faint but clear, trumpets sounded outside the chamber's window. Had more warriors arrived at the castle?
Sareth moved to the window, pulling back the drapes. “Lirith, Aryn