Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Seventy Eight: An Escape

He'd broken into an ancient tomb, been chased out of it by an undead murderer, been rescued by a living one, visited a man whose career revolved around killing people, and had the most uncomfortable confrontation in his entire life, all in the last day.

And at the end of it all, everyone was pissed at him. Nika was pissed at him. Arlen was pissed at him. Grace had been pissed at him because she hadn't been allowed to come to the castle with them, and that sulk would last into the next day at least. Yddris was absent but probably peed off about Usk's involvement, too.

"You look like someone's pissed in your beer." Koen sat down opposite him. Jordan just grunted at him, feeling very hard done by.

At least Koen still liked him. But then his thoughts veered towards the darker idea that Koen still liked him because he had no idea about anything that had happened or what Jordan was involved with.

"No one's pissed in it." Nova hopped up onto a stool beside him. She glanced speculatively at the glasses they clutched. "There might be some sweat in there."

"You sure know how to sell it," Jordan muttered. A reluctant smirk twitched at one side of his mouth. He watched Ren roll around on the table with the ball of twine that a maid had found her to play with and forcibly pulled himself away from his wallowing thoughts. "Have you heard anything?"

"No." The Angel's face was blank, but there was a sort of simmering around her. As if she was angry about something. Or upset. She lowered her voice so that only Koen and Jordan could hear her. "Nika can't get him to take it. He's convinced it's the poison. So we're taking a break for him to calm down and hoping he'll have forgotten about it soon."

"I thought you were keeping Cael off him," Jordan whispered, almost inaudibly. He'd noted a few members of staff drawing closer than perhaps necessary now that Nova had returned from the lord's chambers.

"I have been," she said. "He's just that sick."

He exchanged a look with Koen. Were they already too late?

"When are you going back to try again?" Jordan asked, but regretted it at the long-suffering look she gave him. She pulled her knees up under her chin, which pulled the fabric of her dress tight across her wing stumps. He cursed himself for insensitivity. Of course this was hard for her; Harkenn had tormented her for years. He couldn't fathom how much it must cost her to try and save his life. He suspected his own disgruntlement with the lord paled in comparison to the grudges she had accumulated, and yet he hadn't heard her complain once.

"Soon," she said, before he could apologise. "I expect. I need breaks too. The whole thing is draining."

"Can we get you anything?" Koen asked, before Jordan could think to. "A drink?"

Her eyes roved the cooking pot bubbling on the stove and away again quickly, as if even looking at it was too much to ask. Jordan slipped off his stool and sauntered over to peek inside. It looked as though it was just keeping warm there.

"Is this done?" he asked the cook. "Can you spare any?"

The woman gave him a shrewd look, though it wasn't without a smile. She sauntered over, wiping grease from her fingers onto a dish rag. "Don't you go picking up your tutor's loitering habits, young man. Ask straight off before you go getting under everyone's feet."

Despite her words, she fetched down a bowl from a high shelf and ladled in hot stew. It was thick with vegetables and... "Is this meat?"

"The trade routes have opened up again," the cook said, nodding. "Though hunting still isn't good. At least the huntsmen among the Unspoken can get back into the mountain passes even if no one else can. It's not much, but it's fresh and it's welcome." She snatched up a bread roll off the side and pushed it partway into the stew, glancing over her shoulder as she did so. "I'll make her a spiced cider as well. She looks two shades closer to death'n she did this morning."