Page 101 of The Prince's Sacrifice

Pel could have wept with relief. “What are you doing here?”

“Bela sent me,” Cavun said calmly, like he stopped people from accidentally stabbing him with knives all the time. “Thought you might be in a spot of trouble when neither of you showed up earlier. Want me to take him?”

Pel felt an immediate urge to clutch Tor closer—but that was nonsensical. He hadn’t let himself think about how heavy Tor was getting, but Pel had been coming to the end of his strength. He’d just been determined to carry on anyway.

But now he didn’t have to. Cavun was big enough to be able to carry Tor with ease.

“Yes, please,” he said, since that was the only reasonable answer. “Be careful. He’s injured.”

Cavun plucked Tor from Pel as though he weighed nothing, carrying him in his arms as though he were a baby. Tor’s head lolled against Cavun’s chest, and Pel swallowed thickly, his fingers itching to check Tor’s pulse.

What did Pel intend to do if it wasn’t there? Better to get to the inn and then figure everything out.

Cavun strode quickly as though he weren’t burdened at all by Tor’s weight. Pel felt weirdly unbalanced now, like an integral part of him was missing. His first few steps were stumbling, but then he caught up to Cavun and hurried along by his side.

By the time they reached the inn, Pel’s brain had spun in every direction uselessly. Thankfully, no one observed them carrying Tor up the stairs, though Pel had been practically quivering with his readiness to claim that Tor had drunk too much.

Beluna wasn’t sleeping when they arrived, and her look of worry intensified when she saw Tor.

Pel made sure the door was shut and locked behind them before he said, “It’s really not good.”

Cavun laid Tor down in the bed, and Pel immediately reached for his neck.

He felt a wave of dizziness wash through him when he felt that unsteady thrum beneath his fingertips.

It was fine. It was totally fine. Tor’s heart was still beating. He was a bit cool to the touch, but that had happened when he’dmagically exhausted himself up the mountain. It wasn’tgood, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Worrying about the end of the world seemed a lot more necessary than it had earlier today—and Pel had been well aware that they were going to meet the High King who probably wasn’t going to approve of Pel.

Everything had definitely been put into perspective for him.

Pel twined their hands together, still not liking the coldness. That might be one thing in this giant mess that he could fix.

“Do we have more blankets?”

Beluna raided the chest at the foot of the bed, and they piled several blankets on Tor. Pel climbed onto the bed with him, because he couldn’t tear himself away.

He took several deep breaths, sucking the air into his lungs and then expelling it slowly. Like he’d told Beluna, it was definitely not good, but it could have been worse.

He’d got Tor out of the castle, and that was the first step. He wasn’t flopping around suspended over Pel’s shoulder anymore, or even carried more comfortably by Cavun. He was in an inn, in a bed, and wrapped up in blankets.

“What happened?” Beluna asked, gaze intent on Pel’s face.

“He’s probably magically exhausted again,” Pel admitted. “I mean, the symptoms seem to be similar. Oh, but he’s injured!”

They pulled back the blankets, and Pel castigated himself for not having pointed that out right away. Magical exhaustion was his best guess, and there wasn’t anything Pel could do about that without a healer, but they could definitely address Tor’s physical wounds.

Beluna pushed Pel aside, unbinding Pel’s sloppy bandages and getting Tor out of his tunic and hose to make sure there were no other bad injuries. He was covered in bruises and scratches, but his leg and side were by far the worst.

They cleaned each area and spread ointment over the minor ones. (It turned out that Beluna planned ahead and had brought supplies in case any of them were injured. Pel vowed that he would never forget again. Not that something like this waseverallowed to happen again, but still.)

“Are we likely to be able to take Tor to a healer anytime soon?” Beluna wanted to know.

Pel shook his head. He couldn’t see how. The only healer Pel knew personally was Wavilon, and not only was he days and days away, Pel couldn’t imagine taking Tor back to Baless and the castle. With the mood his father was in, he’d happily turn Tor over—or take care of the problem himself.

Beluna just nodded to herself, not seeming particularly surprised, and then pulled out needle and thread and neatly stitched up the wound in Tor’s leg and side.

Tor didn’t rouse even slightly, once again enforcing the idea that he was magically exhausted.