“Yes. He shouldn’t be back for a while,” I assured him. “This isn’t a trap or anything.”
“I would . . . hope not,” he said, tipping his head against the wall, exposing his throat to the moonlight. “You’ve gone to . . . a lot of unnecessary . . . trouble if so.”
Biting the inside of my lip, I turned the handle. Or tried to. My shoulders slumped. “It’s locked.”
“That’s . . . an inconvenience.” He angled his body toward mine. Lifting a fist, he punched the door, just above the handle. Wood cracked and splintered, exploding as his fist went straight through.
My jaw dropped.
He reached into the ragged hole and turned the lock. “There you . . . go. No longer locked.”
I blinked as my fingers fluttered to my throat. That same hand he’d just put through a thick wooden door had been around my throat.
“If I weren’t . . . weakened,” he said, eyeing me from behind a curtain of hair, “I would’ve killed you the moment I had . . . your throat in my hand. You’re lucky.”
My hand lowered as my heart skipped. I wasn’t feeling very lucky at the moment. Instead, I was feeling like I’d really gotten myself in over my head this time.
The Lord pushed open the door, all but stumbling aside at the faint stench of sour ale and decaying food. I gave the space a quick look, making out a small table and unwashed pots and pans stacked in a sink. My gaze lifted to the archway and narrow hall that appeared to lead toward the front, which Jac likely used to meet with clients. Many of the buildings in this area of Archwood were several hundred years old, having survived the Great War. So, they were larger, and had a lot of chambers and were built entirely differently from the way they were today. I turned, spying another door on the other side of the table.
Figuring that led to bedchambers and hopefully a bathing space, I helped the Lord around the wooden table.
“You . . . you weren’t at the tavern,” he rasped.
“How do you know?”
“I would’ve seen . . . you.”
I arched a brow. “I was out for a walk when I overheard what had happened.”
“Where?”
I didn’t answer as I nudged the door open and led him down the narrow hall.
“You’ve . . . been somewhere near . . . a garden,” he said.
My head whipped toward him. “How do you know that?”
“I smell . . . the earth on you,” he said, and I frowned, having no idea if that meant I smelled bad or not. “Hints of . . . of catmint and . . .”
Surprise flickered through me. I had been messing around with the catmint earlier that day. I stared at him. “How do you smell that?”
“Just can,” he mumbled as he slipped from me, swaying. I reached for him, but he waved me off. “I’m okay.”
I wasn’t so sure about that as I glanced ahead. Another door, left ajar, loomed.
His breath was ragged as he used the wall as support. “The catmint?”
“I was trimming some earlier today.”
He made a sound sort of like a hum. “I . . . like the smell . . . of them.”
“As do I.” Blowing out a breath, I pushed the door open. Moonlight streamed in from the window, casting silvery light over a bed and a surprisingly tidy chamber that smelled of fresh laundry.
The Lord shuffled into the chamber. Closing the door behind him, I threw the tiny hook-and-eye lock, as if that would stop a rabbit from getting in, let alone another person.
He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. I halted, hand pressing against my chest as he grasped his knees, bent slightly at the waist. I started to ask if he was okay, but stopped myself. He wasn’t. At all. Seeing anyone like this caused my stomach to jump all over the place.
Pivoting away from him, I found a lamp near the bed and turned it on. The buttery light lit the space as I crossed the chamber, pushed open the next door, and stepped inside. Relief hit me when I saw the type of shower stall found in the oldest buildings. It wasn’t very large, but it would do. “You can get cleaned up in here.”
“I’m going to need a minute,” he slurred. “The chamber seems to be moving.”
Returning to the bedchamber, I looked around, and spied a cupboard. Hurrying to it, I pulled the lunea dagger from the pocket of my cloak, half surprised I hadn’t stabbed myself with it. I placed it on the cupboard as I spotted a closed jar of what appeared to be water on a small table opposite the bed. I lifted it to my nose, taking a sniff, and when I smelled nothing, I poured a glass and took a drink. “Will this help? It’s just water, but warm.”