Page 87 of The Ragpicker King
Antonetta sucked in a gasp. “What? But how—”
“I killed him.” It was Jerrod, his metal mask gleaming harshly in the light from the tallships. “I drove a dagger into his neck, all right?Now, Kel, get over here and help me with Merren. I need something to bind up this wound. And he hit his head on a rock when he fell. He’s going to need a physician.” He sounded as rattled as Kel had ever heard him.
“Here.” Antonetta, all worried eyes, thrust her silk shawl at Kel. He scrambled over a velvet-padded bench to reach the spot where Merren rested, propped against the hull. Jerrod knelt beside him, on his knees in half an inch of brackish water; he was speaking to Merren in a low voice, though Kel could catch only Merren’s name.
Merren seemed disoriented, his eyes half lidded, his fair hair plastered damply to his forehead. There was a bad cut on the left side of his forehead, already beginning to darken and swell. The sleeve of his shirt was soaked with red, and more red mixed with the water in the bottom of the boat.
Jerrod hunched protectively over Merren, with the general air of a bear hovering over its cub.
“Kel,” Merren murmured as Kel knelt down beside him.
“Hush,” Kel said, handing Antonetta’s shawl to Jerrod. “You must rest.”
Jerrod began to tear the fragile silk shawl into strips, clearly intending to bind the furrowed wound in Merren’s arm. He didn’t look up at Kel.
“What the gray hell, Jerrod?” Kel hissed under his breath. “You killed Gremont—How?He had the amulet on.” He pulled the heavy jeweled pendant out of his pocket and held it up. “I took it off him as he died. It was supposed to protect him.”
Jerrod stared at the winking pendant, then shook his head. “The thing you’re holding is a fake,” he said. The efficiency with which he tied Merren’s arm tightly with the torn strips of shawl made Kel wonder how many times he’d done this sort of thing before. No doubt it was easy to get hurt being a Crawler.
“How the hell do you know that?” Kel snapped.
“I was told.”
“By who? The Ragpicker King? But how would he know—”
“Alys Asper,” Jerrod said shortly. “The false amulet was switched for the real one while Gremont was snoring at the Caravel.”
Merren stirred at the sound of his sister’s name. Jerrod bared his teeth at Kel, who decided retreat might be the better part of valor. At least before Jerrod bit him in the leg.
He rose to his feet, shoving the false amulet back into his pocket, and saw that they were drawing close to the lighted shore. The Alleynes had their own dock next to the Key. They drew up to it, and Ji-An leaped out to help Kel and Antonetta secure the boat.
Alys Asper. The amulet was switched at the Caravel.Kel’s head spun as he watched Jerrod maneuver Merren carefully out of the craft, Merren’s good arm slung around his shoulder. He hadn’t realized Jerrod even knew Alys beyond his light acquaintance with her as the owner of the Caravel. And, of course, as Merren’s sister. Had he gone to Alys about Gremont? Or even stranger, had she come to him?
“Take my carriage,” Antonetta said, indicating a pink-and-white barouche drawn up before a tavern whose swinging sign proclaimed itTHE UNLUCKY ROSE. A driver wearing Alleyne livery was half asleep in the driver’s seat, his cap tipped forward to hide his face. “I’ll be in awful trouble with my mother regardless, and you must get your friend to Lin as soon as possible.”
“Are you sure?” Jerrod was looking at Antonetta in much the way he regarded all nobility—half sour, half contemptuous. “We’ll likely get blood on your nice white seats.”
Antonetta blinked. “I don’t care aboutthat,” she said. “What kind of person do you think I am?”
“Jerrod, be quiet,” Ji-An said hastily. “Demoselle Alleyne, thank you for the loan of your carriage. We will have it sent back to the Key as soon as we’ve finished with it.”
Jerrod nodded curtly. “Kel, help me with Merren.”
“I’ll do it,” said Ji-An before Kel could move, and a moment later she had Merren’s other arm slung around her shoulder. She glanced back once at Kel and Antonetta before she and Jerrod setoff for the carriage. There was something knowing in her expression.
Kel turned to Antonetta. The taverns along the Key were brightly lit, but the Alleyne boat cast a slanted shadow over them. Still, they were anything but private.
“Ana,” he said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I should have thanked you. You saved our lives.”
She took the front of his jacket in her small hands. The wind off the water bit at them coldly; Antonetta was shivering. Kel wanted more than anything to wrap her up in his cloak. “What happened, Kel?” she whispered. “Who were those people? Why were they chasing you? And the people you’re with—”
“Antonetta.” His throat ached, hard, as it had not in years—not since that first time she had turned away from him, at her debut ball, and he had forced himself to show nothing, to give no sign that it hurt.Antonetta, I can’t tell you. I want to, but I cannot.
“Don’t ask me,” he said. “If you demand an answer, I will lie to you. And I am a very good liar.”
“I know,” she whispered. She tightened her grip on his jacket; raised herself up on tiptoes. The wind whipped her hair around both of them in a soft cloud. Her lips brushed his—not a kiss, not quite. It was too light, too brief, but the heat of her mouth against his seemed to press into him, a weight on his heart.
She let go of his jacket, stepped away. Without her warmth against him, the wind was like a thousand tiny blades on his skin. “You had better go and join your friends,” she said, turning away from him. “They’ll be wondering what’s keeping you.”
