Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(19)
I looked at him sharply, then met Lord Manus’s eyes. “He’s delirious.”
“Couldn’t find you,” Arcus muttered, his eyes closing. “Worried.”
Lord Pell chuckled, though I heard the tension in his voice. “The king nearly lost his mind when he couldn’t find you during the attack, Lady Ruby. I’ve fought alongside him in battle and I’ve never seen him so close to wetting his pants.”
“Quiet, Oliver,” Arcus murmured.
“You were outside?” Lord Pell asked me as we reached the doorway.
I told a brief version of events about Lord and Lady Regier, Drake and his revenge, and what he’d said about the Blue Legion.
“You fought them all off by yourself?” Lord Manus asked.
The guards crowded around us now, offering help. I wasn’t about to say anything about Kai. There were too many people here. “The king needs to be in bed.”
A crooked smile spread over Arcus’s face and his eyelids fluttered open. “Why, Ruby, I didn’t know you were so eager to get me into bed. Wish I’d known sooner.”
Lord Manus’s cheeks darkened with the blue-tinged Frostblood version of a blush. I was sure my complexion was thoroughly pink.
“Come now, friend,” said Lord Pell, motioning the guards to help carry their king, “before you give the guards far too much to talk about.”
Arcus muttered something barely audible and stumbled, but the steady hands of his men were there to carry him. I had never seen him look so weak.
“What a night,” said Lord Pell as we moved into the hallway toward the stairs. “The glorious dawn of our peace talks has ended in attempts on our lives.”
“The dignitary from the Aris Plains!” Lord Manus exclaimed, as if just remembering. “We couldn’t find him!”
“He was with me in the garden,” I said now that we had more privacy, although I couldn’t quite bring myself to admit that he wasn’t the dignitary at all. “He ran off during the attack.”
“Well, we’ll have to find him and grovel on our knees for all this. Thank Fors he wasn’t killed. The assassins seemed to be targeting delegates, particularly the ones who’ve shown a willingness to sign the peace treaties. Which is probably why Arcus threw himself in front of the dagger meant for the Safran ambassador. Typical. He’s calm and focused when defending himself, but he’s a fiend when he’s protecting someone else.”
“He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”
“The healers will tell us more shortly. Though it probably didn’t do much good when he yanked out the blade so he could search for you.”
I groaned. “I’m going to kill him. And then I’m going to find out the names of every man and woman who had a hand in this attack and”—there were so many things I’d like to do, and they all involved my fire—“express my extreme displeasure.”
Manus chuckled. “Leave that to me. Your job is to go make him rest, since I doubt anyone else could.”
FIVE
I SAT ON ONE SIDE OF ARCUS’S BED, and Brother Thistle sat on the other. A fire had been lit, though somehow the heat didn’t penetrate the massive space. Plush royal-blue curtains covered wide windows that looked down on the castle courtyard. All the luxuries of the king’s bedchamber—carved wardrobes, thick rugs, wingback chairs with delicately curved legs—were painted a soft yellow by the glow from candelabras.
I watched helplessly as the healers, a man and woman with similarly long, serious faces, checked the king’s pulse and washed and dressed his wound.
It was deathly quiet after they left. Arcus lay in the bed, silent and still, his skin almost as bleached as the sheets, the covers pulled over his bare chest up to his bandaged shoulder. When I touched his cheek, he was frighteningly cold, even for him.
“Will he recover?” I asked, as if the monk, with all his scholarly knowledge, would know the answer to that question, too.
“He must.” Brother Thistle’s expression was openly worried as he stared at Arcus. He loved him like a son, that was clear. Surely we would make Arcus better with the force of our affection alone.
“Where were you when it happened?” I asked.
“I left the ball early and returned to the library.” He offered it like a confession.
“You couldn’t have known. This is more my fault than anyone else’s.” A wave of guilt swept through me. The so-called Blue Legion, apparently a network of bitter nobles, all hated the king because of me. Or at least what they perceived as my influence over him.
“The timing was deliberate,” I observed.
“Of course.”
“And the targets were anyone who supported the peace accords.”
“That much is clear.”
“Who is behind it?”
He rubbed his temples. “I fear there are many more suspects than we’d first thought.”
I told him what Lady Blanding had said, her veiled threats that she had decided to leave us to our fate, and my suspicion that she’d known about the coming attack.
He didn’t look surprised. “Arcus has promised to give the Aris Plains back to the farmers of the southern provinces once he assures peace. I was surprised that he didn’t see more direct opposition from his court, many of whom were given that land by Akur and Rasmus. Now we know why.”