The thought jolted him with panic. With a gargantuan effort, he peeled his eyes open.
Wooden rafters came into view. He lay under a roof made of woven willow branches. The light filtered through the tiny slits between the weave. This wasn’t a crate.
Where was he?
He closed his eyes again tightly, trying to remember.
Memories came in ragged pieces.
He was lying on a moving paddle board, every move of it jarring with excruciating pain in his back…
Hapon’s concerned face leaning over him. “Drink this, my lord.” A cup pressed to his lips with something terribly bitter in it…
A woman with a face so crisscrossed with lines, her skin looked like the trunk of an old oak tree…
And before that?
His father’s palace. Bherlon’s betrayal.
Amira…
She had been close. Somewhere…
“Amira,” he groaned, calling for her.
But she was no longer here.
He had to go. He needed to find her.
Flexing the muscles in his jaw so tightly his teeth screeched, grinding against each other, he heaved himself up. Pain lanced through his entire body. He doubled over and rolled off the bed.
It wasn’t a nest he’d been lying in. Though, it couldn’t really be called a bed, either. It looked like a bench—a wooden cot, covered with hand-woven rugs and linen blankets.
He groaned again, curling into himself against the pain.
A dry chuckle sounded nearby.
“Too impatient for your own good, aren’t you?” a raspy voice chastised him.
“I need to go…” His throat burned from thirst.
The voice tsked. “Not for another month or two yet, my pretty lord.”
He opened his eyes again, squinting against the light of the fire in the metal hearth by the wall. A dark figure sat by the hearth. It was impossible to tell either by their voice or their appearance, whether it was a male, a female, or someone else entirely.
A door opened with a squeak of rusty hinges, and a man walked in.
“Is everything alright, Grandmother?” Kyllen recognized the man as Hapon by his voice. “I heard a noise.”
“Your lord is hot in the head.” The figure by the fireplace chuckled. “No patience at all.” She handed a wide mug with two handles to Hapon. “Give him this. He needs to drink all of it if he ever wants to stand on his feet again.”
“My lord!” Hapon rushed to him, then helped him back onto the cot.
“Tell your grandmother I don’t have a month or two to lie around,” he rasped. “I need to heal faster.”
Hapon blanched. “She’s not my grandmother. This is the village hag, skilled in healing. We’re in my family’s place again, my lord. Please forgive me, but I didn’t know where else to go.”
Kyllen dismissed his apology with a wave of a hand. The man had nothing to apologize for. The memories of Bherlon’s attack had returned, clear in their horror, now.
“You saved my life,” he croaked. Speaking hurt.
Hapon crouched at his cot, the mug of the hag’s brew in his hands. “My loyalty was tested that night. And I made my choice. I’m on your side, my lord.”
Kyllen accepted the mug and took a few large gulps. The liquid was tepid, but it burned his throat without any heat. The witch’s magic. It was strong enough to soothe the pain and smooth his throat at once.
Hags possessed the most powerful magic in Nerifir. But they had to trade their good looks and youth for it. The witch in the room could be younger than Kyllen, and she likely would live longer than him, but she looked like she was about to meet the Great Serpent any day. Her dark, patterned hands gripped a walking stick made from gnarly wood. The travel hood—completely unnecessary in the room with only gorgonians present—was drawn low over her face.
“Why did you kill for me, Hapon?” he asked.
“You are your father’s son. The throne of Ellohi is rightfully yours. It’s my honor to serve you as my father served your father, my lord.”
Kyllen glanced inside the mug in his hands. The dark liquid in it shimmered and sparkled like a piece of night sky dusted with stars. “Honor is an inconvenient thing to have. It can get you in trouble.”
“It already did.” Hapon gave him a humorless smile. “I slew Lord Bherlon. The High Lord’s men are scouting all of Ellohi, looking for me.”
“How come they’re not here? Your family village would be the first place to look.”
“It would be.” The man smirked. “If Lord Udren ever bothered to ask where I come from.”
Kyllen huffed a laugh. It resonated with a wave of pain through his body. He sank back onto the cot. Just a moment's rest, then he had to get up.
“Where is Amira?” She’d been close before. He’d seen her in the darkness of his delirium. He’d spoken to her. Though, he couldn’t remember the words.
He felt her.
Hapon diverted his eyes and shifted uneasily.
Kyllen lifted himself on an elbow, despite another slash of fiery pain from his back.
“Where is she?”
The hag cackled. “You need to stop jolting your body like that if you ever want to get your lady-friend back.”
“She was here,” he growled at the woman. “What did you do to her?”