“Because you looked like someone who needed a place to stay.”
“And why did you give me your son’s watch?”
He hesitated, then said, “I didn’t know why you’d joined up with the thieves, but I knew you weren’t like them. I hoped the watch would help you remember your way back, maybe keep you from getting lost in their world.”
My eyes had become heavy again. Harlowe made a move to leave, but I asked him to wait. When he sat again I said, “You prefer to avoid the politics in Drylliad. Honestly, so do I. But Carthya needs you and I need a prime regent.”
Harlowe sat up straight. “Prime? That’s a title given for seniority amongst your regents. There are many others —”
“They’re all idiots. We both know that. Please, Harlowe, will you come to Drylliad?”
There was no hesitation. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
“I’m Jaron.” My words were beginning to slur and I knew more sleep wasn’t far off. “That’s my name.”
When Imogen had cared for me at Farthenwood, she was still a servant herself and subject to Conner’s orders. But now we were in Harlowe’s home, and it quickly became apparent that she was in control of every aspect of my care.
She forced food and water into me until I refused to open my mouth, tended to the cuts and scrapes on my chest and back, and stayed with me constantly unless someone else was there to visit. Through all that we said little to each other. I don’t think either of us knew the right words.
For the most part, I let her manage things without complaining. I did tell her later that same afternoon that it was time to return to Drylliad. I asked her to arrange for a messenger who would notify Amarinda and Tobias to find an excuse to leave and meet me in Farthenwood. There we could set everything straight before I returned to the castle.
“Don’t you think they’ll notice the king returning to Drylliad with a broken leg?” she asked, smiling.
“I might not be king anymore,” I replied. Even without Gregor, perhaps the vote on the steward had taken place.
Her response was interrupted by a knock on the door, and Mott was admitted into my room. Imogen again made an excuse to leave and he sat in her chair.
It was difficult to know where to begin with him. I knew he’d be respectful because of my title and the extent of my injuries, but I wanted more than that. I needed to know what it would take for him to consider me a friend again, if anything could. Apparently, he felt awkward too, because he spent more effort studying the floor than actually looking at me.
Finally, I said it. “I won’t apologize for what I’ve done. But I must apologize for how difficult my actions must have been for you.”
“Fair enough.” Then he added, “But for the record, I won’t apologize for my anger about your leaving. I’m glad that everything turned out as it did, but it was still far too reckless.”
“Agreed.” I paused, then said, “Although in the same circumstances, I’d do it again. Except for the part about making Roden angry enough to break my leg.”
We were quiet a moment, and then, in a much sadder voice, Mott added, “Why didn’t you let me come with you? I could have protected you.”
I looked at him. “But that’s just the problem. You would have protected me, which would have risked both our lives. And it had to be me who went. I knew at some point that I’d have to face Roden. He wouldn’t have returned with anyone else.”
“After the way he threatened you, I thought you’d have to kill him.”
“Only if there was no other choice. My hope was always to get him back on my side again.”
“He’s better off here with us.”
“And we’re better off with him,” I said. “He’s a dangerous enemy but a fierce friend. Carthya needs him on our side.”
“But how can you trust him? After all he’s done to you?”
“When we fought that last time, he could’ve easily ended things by striking at my leg. He never did, not once. If he wanted me dead, I would be.”
Mott nodded. “Then I’ll learn to trust him too. You do have friends, Jaron. We will always stand by you.”
I understood that better now. I pointed to his forearm, still bandaged tightly. “I’m sorry about your arm, outside Harlowe’s office.”
“I’d only arrived a little earlier that night. Harlowe was doing his best to deny having seen you, but it was obvious he had.” The corner of Mott’s mouth lifted. “He thought you were a runaway servant, probably owned by a noble in Drylliad.”
For some reason, that struck me as funny. I chuckled only until it hurt, then said, “Harlowe’s a good man. I asked him to be my prime regent.”