Leaves of Revolution (15 page)

Linnea’s chortle turned into a cough, but Thomas only got out the words, “Are you…,” before she shot him down with a death glare.

“Zander wants to join the Friends of Philip,” she said, deftly shifting the focus off herself.

He decided to let her get away with it – for now.

DESPITE HAVING BEEN TOLD several times that he didn’t have to, Zander dragged himself out of bed when the first hints of light appeared at the bottom of the curtain. His shoulder screeched in protest when he pushed himself up, forcing him to re-think the idea of using his left arm at all.

Until last night, he’d sort of believed that all the stories about the pain of the tattoo were exaggerations – that the ominous warnings had been just a form of hazing. He should have realized that while Thomas or Linnea might engage in that sort of teasing, William wouldn’t have. Quinn probably wouldn’t, either.

Nobody had been kidding in the least.

For a moment, he eyed the little bottle of pain pills sitting on his bedside table – but the medicine was growing scarce now that the gate was closed, and he could handle it. Sort of.

James and Dorian were already gone, their beds neatly made. He must have been sleeping harder than he’d thought.

They probably hadn’t gone out to the barn yet. Zander opened the curtain – and immediately regretted it. The sunlight reflecting off the snow blinded him momentarily, making his eyes water. He had to blink several times just to be able to see the inside of the bedroom again.

Well, the storm was over. The dawn sky was bright blue over the waist-high blanket of snow on the ground. He didn’t know whether the sunshine was cause for joy or dread. It didn’t matter, he supposed. There was no changing the weather.

Ignoring the searing sensation across his chest and down his arm, he dressed for the snow.

Even walking was painful as he made his way down the hall; each time his boots hit the wooden floor, the vibration traveled up his body and reverberated in the tattoo. He wished he could blame Linnea for talking him into this, but it had truthfully been his decision.

Just the difference in how the other guards had treated him last night told him it was worth it, but it was more than that. Although he knew very little about the politics in Philotheum, he knew as much as he needed to about Queen Quinn and those on her side.

Quinn and William could have treated him so much differently when he’d come so unexpectedly to their world – especially when he, himself had been so angry. William could have kept his wife’s ex-boyfriend away from them – could have had guards with swords lock him in a dungeon until it was time to send him back to his own world. Given the way Zander had spoken to Quinn in front of William the last time he’d seen them in Bristlecone, William might have even been justified in protecting Quinn from him.

Really, from a practical standpoint, the leaders of both kingdoms had taken an enormous chance in allowing Zander to move freely about at all. His knowledge of the secret gate was a phenomenal risk to this world – from both sides of that gate. It wouldn’t have been entirely unreasonable for either Quinn or Stephen to order him locked up here permanently.

But they hadn’t. From the moment he’d arrived, they’d – all of them – treated him as a welcome guest. They’d put him in a nice room, provided clothes, and tried to help him navigate the unfamiliar food … the unfamiliar
world.
William, who could have seen Zander’s obvious jealousy as a threat, chose to be gracious and kind.

Even Quinn’s personal guard, whose very
job
it was to be implicitly on her side and shield her from even the kind of rude remarks Zander made at first, chose to overlook his anger and confusion and treat him as a friend.

Linnea was right. He knew which side he was on already. They’d staked their lives and their kingdoms on trusting him – even when he’d done nothing to deserve it. Even if he
did
return to his own world, he couldn’t erase what had happened here. The tattoo wasn’t a commitment he wasn’t ready for; it was only a symbol that marked him for who he’d already become.

But it freaking hurt.

When he reached the kitchen, his heart sank. Tobias stood at the counter, stirring something in a metal cup that had a suspiciously familiar smell – he hadn’t smelled that since he’d been in this world.

“Did they already go out to the barn?” Zander asked.

Tobias nodded without looking up at him; he removed the spoon from his cup and set it on the counter, then lifted the drink to his mouth, taking a long sip before finally setting it down and turning his attention to Zander.

“Where are you all dressed and ready to go?”

“I was going to go out and help with the horses.”

Tobias frowned. “I remember you being told to stay in and rest and take care of that shoulder.”

“I can keep up. There’s too much to do for one person to be down.”

“Save that attitude for in case you get to see an actual battle. No need to create fights where there are none. You’ve done enough proving yourself to last at least a day.”

“There are a lot of horses to take care of.”

“Sit, Zander. Thomas, Nathaniel, Dorian, and Marcus all went out to help. Now that the snow and the wind have quieted, they wanted to get the horses some exercise, keep them ready for travel. I mean it. Sit. You’re not going out there.”

Zander slumped onto one of the stools, forgetting and putting his elbows on the counter, which sent another electric shock through his shoulder.

“Mmm-hmm… doesn’t a nice bumpy ride through the snow on your horse sound perfect right about now?”

Zander scowled at him, which only made Tobias chuckle.

“Would you like me to make you some tea – or can I offer you a cup of this mud?” He held up his mug.

“Is that
coffee
?”

Tobias raised an eyebrow. “You have this in your world?”

“Yes, but I’ve never seen it here. Where did you get it?”

“They grow it in another kingdom across the sea to the south. I have a friend who sends me some from time to time. Not many people bother importing it here – most don’t like the taste. They save their coins for cocoa instead. Would you like a cup?”

“I don’t want to deplete your supply.”

“Nonsense. I never have someone to share it with these days.”

“Do you have cream and sugar?”

“Is that what they do in your world? Same as some people do with tea?”

“Some people. Me.”

“Help yourself.”

After eating breakfast with Tobias, Zander was in a better mood – drinking coffee again after so long without it probably had something to do with it. Even the pain in his shoulder was easier to deal with; he’d have to be careful not to get used to this.

He’d taken a few steps down the hall when he noticed something lying on the floor outside Linnea’s door – a tray. He didn’t remember seeing it there before, but then again, he’d sort of been concentrating on staring straight ahead. The fruit, sweet rolls, and juice looked untouched.

There was a piece of paper there, too, tucked under a white napkin.

It wasn’t any of his business, really, how it had gotten there. None of his concern at all. He’d already taken a step away from Linnea’s door when he heard her cough loudly inside – a horrible, lingering sound that alarmed him. Without stopping to think, he knocked on the door. “Princess Linnea?”

For a moment, there was silence. He almost knocked again, but then she croaked out a muffled, “I’m fine.”

He turned the knob and pushed the door open just enough to peer inside and see that the room was still dim. “No you’re not.”

“Zander…” her hoarse protest was drowned out in another fit of coughing.

He picked up the tray and carried it into her room, setting it down on the table next to her bed.

She was still buried under the covers. “You brought me breakfast?”

He only considered fibbing for a second before he shook his head and reached for the note, holding it just far enough out that she had to reach for it – allowing him a surreptitious brush against her wrist. “Linnea! You’re burning up.”

“Really? Because I’m freezing.” She pulled the note inside her quilted cocoon.

Zander took a match from the little carved box on the bedside table and used it to light the oil lamp, then adjusted the lamp so the light from it shone close to her face.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

As she read the note, he went over to the fireplace, pulled open the screen and set another log on the grate. He stoked the embers for a minute until the flames caught, sending a blast of welcome warmth into the room. It
was
chilly in here, but he suspected that wasn’t Linnea’s biggest problem.

He stood and turned to face the bed again, just in time to see her fold the note and shove it under her blankets as another coughing spell overtook her. In the dim light, her face was sallow and pale, except the flaring red circles on her cheeks.

This time the coughing lasted longer and she sounded like she was having trouble catching her breath.

“I’m going to go get someone,” he said.

“Don’t, Zander. It’s just a cold. Don’t wake William or Nathaniel up.”

“What makes you think they’re sleeping?”

“You’re the only one in here.”

He chuckled. “I think Nathaniel actually is awake – Tobias said he went out to the barn. Is that who wrote the note?”

“Nathaniel? No.”

He’d meant Tobias – but it didn’t matter. He shouldn’t have asked. If anything had been drilled into him in guard training it was that absolutely
nothing
was his business unless he was invited.

Her silence reaffirmed that notion – right up until she pulled the covers tighter around her and said, “It’s from James.”

From James
? Oh… so very, very not his concern, and yet… “Well, that was nice of him.” It
was
a nice thing… so why on Earth – on Deusterros – did he feel a flash of annoyance?

Linnea nodded.

“Are you hungry? The rolls are fresh.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Then you at least need to drink some juice.”

She started to shake her head, but he picked up the glass from the tray and held it out to her.

“I’m not kidding. You drink, or I go pound on William’s door.”

“You shouldn’t even be in here,” she said. “You don’t want to catch whatever this is.”

“Mmm… I’m only allowed to put myself in danger for the royal family if it involves swords now? Sit up. Drink. Or I go get William.”

“Not necessary,” said a voice from the doorway that led to the washroom. “I’m here.” William had obviously just woken up, but he was fully alert when he reached Linnea’s bedside a second later. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s just a…” Another long coughing fit interrupted Linnea’s protest.

William’s hand flew to her forehead, his eyes widening in concern as he registered the heat. He sat down next to her on the mattress, rubbing her back until she was finished, and then he took the glass from Zander and helped her take several small sips.

She didn’t fight William. He made her finish about half the juice before setting the glass back on the tray. “Can you stay with her for a minute?” he asked Zander. “I need to go get my bag.”

“Sure.”

Once William was gone, Zander held up his hands. “I didn’t do it.”

“You were talking loud enough for him to hear you.”

“You were coughing loud enough for people at the castle to hear you. We’ll have soldiers at the door any minute.”

She ignored that. “How’s your shoulder today?”

He shrugged. “Can’t be much worse than your throat, from the sound of it.”

“I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d actually take the pain medicine.”

For no apparent reason, his cheeks warmed. “I didn’t.”

“There’s a difference between brave and just ridiculous, Zander.”

“Ridiculous? You mean like not wanting help from a qualified person when you’re practically on your deathbed?” As soon as that word was out, he regretted it. The flash of pain in her eyes matched the one in his chest, only hers was amplified at least a thousand times. “Sorry,” he whispered.

She scrunched her nose and shook her head once. “It’s just a hazard of speaking at all now. You can’t guard everything that comes out of your mouth forever.”

Another coughing spell interrupted her; this one was worse than the last few had been; Zander felt like he should do something, but he didn’t know what. Just as the coughing finally tapered off, he heard what he thought was William returning, but it was Quinn.

“Not another step,” Linnea said as soon as she saw her. “You’re not getting sick. And you’re especially not taking any germs in to Samuel.”

“Nay…”

“I mean it, Quinn.”

Quinn stood in the doorway for several seconds; Zander had no idea if she was going to listen or not. Finally, she sighed. “You’ll have someone get me if you need anything?”

“No. If it’s taking William this long to gather supplies, he’s clearly freaked out. Get out of here. Zander can relay messages, since he’s clearly sticking around like an idiot already.” Linnea was so hoarse now her voice barely carried across the room, but Quinn got the message anyway – she sighed and left.