Chapter 20

Night fell as they crossed the border. The danger of still being pursued relaxed, and they slackened their pace.

Ransom looked down to see if Annabeth was conscious, and for the first time in that long anxious day, her blue eyes met his. With an inward sigh of relief, a smile rose to his lips.

“How are you, my Annabeth?” he whispered, not wanting the others to hear him. For just one moment he wanted her all to himself.

Her eyes were smiling through a heavy film of pain. “I can’t believe you did it,” she whispered, shifting in his arms to lean against his shoulder.

“We are almost to the camp.”

Riding into camp, it felt as if all eyes were turned on them. Annabeth hid her face against Ransom’s doublet. He curved his shoulder, lowering his head close to shadow and protect her face.

Eliot had taken the lead and brought them to a halt before the king’s tent. Ransom watched Eliot help Annabeth’s father get down from the horse, then dismount himself.

“How are you, daughter?” Annabeth’s father asked, taking her hand.

“Much better, thank you father,” she said, trying to squeeze his hand.

Pain went through her arm, but it did not hurt with the dreadful pain of defeat. There was hope in this pain, and not despair.

“I’ll help you get her down, Ransom,” said Eliot, coming to their side.

Ransom shook his head. He wasn’t moving for kings or countries—not if it was going to cause her pain. “I’ll wait till we know where she is supposed to be.”

Just then, King Harold, with Prince Alf, came from the tent.

“Well, well, what have we here?” said King Harold, breaking the silence with a serious expression.

“I always keep my word, sir,” answered Ransom with a nod of his head.

“Yes, I know, but this...this outdoes them all.” He turned to Eliot and for the first time saw Annabeth’s father standing in his shadow.

“Garth, is that you?”

“Your majesty, it is good to see you again.”

King Harold stepped forward and placed his hand on Garth’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you again—though it’s not much better than the last time we were together.”

“Aye, your majesty—at least you weren’t part of this one.”

“Come; King Fredric waits to see you. You must eat with us and tell us all you know. Ransom and Annabeth, come get off your horse and join us.”

“I am afraid that is impossible, sire. Annabeth needs the attention of a physician immediately.”

King Harold stepped forward, peering at her though the darkness.

Suddenly Eliot spoke. “Raburn had her on the rack. I am afraid her right shoulder is dislocated, and there is a wound on her side.”

“You are the one who turned the rack,” said Garth coldly.

“Only because he told me to,” Eliot defended. “I took no pleasure from it, but I had a job to do. If it meant fulfilling my job and saving one more life, I thought it worth it.”

“You put Annabeth on the rack?” asked Prince Alfred, stepping forward, disbelief in his words.

“Yes,” Eliot sighed with discontent over the fact.

“And you thought her life was worth it?”

“If it fulfilled the purpose that I was commissioned for, yes.”

Suddenly, Eliot was on the ground, Prince Alfred standing over him, daring Eliot to stand up and face him.

“Hold on, Prince Alfred. Don’t blame him. I am the one who gave him the order to do whatever it took.” King Harold was holding onto the prince’s right arm, which had knocked Eliot down with a resounding hook.

“But you didn’t twist an innocent girl in the rack,” spat out Alf.

Ransom had a half wish to join Prince Alfred and give his friend a good piece of his mind.

“Leave him, Alf,” whispered Annabeth, her voice hoarse. “That is all over now.”

“If you say so, Annabeth,” sighed Prince Alf, turning and taking her hand.

The night was dark and clouded; Alf sought to pierce it and look into his old playmate’s aching eyes.

Annabeth wearily pulled her eyes shut and leaned into Ransom, holding back a moan. The pain was still strong, but it had lost the overpowering numbness, leaving a dull roar that made her ache everywhere.

King Harold called two pages to his side. “Show Ransom to the girls’ tent, and you, fetch my physician. Bring him to her tent at once. Garth, would you care to join us or will you go with your daughter?”

“I’ll go with my daughter and join you later, if that is all right with you, your majesty.”

“Very good. Your highness?”

“I am going with Annabeth,” he answered flatly, giving Eliot a look that could have killed him.

The servant took the bridle and led them to a nearby tent. Christina’s voice could be heard singing softly inside.

At the sound of the familiar voice, Annabeth opened her eyes to see Alf smiling.

“Christina!” called Alf, making their presence known.

A moment later, that maiden appeared, fresh and pretty with a new dress and a ribbon in her hair. “Yes, Alf, what did you...?” She stopped short at the sight of the others.

“Anna’s here. Can she have the second cot?”

“Of course. Come on in. Anna, there are so many wonderful things I have to show you. What is the matter, Annabeth? You don’t look well.”

“She isn’t,” answered Prince Alfred. “Ransom, let me take her in,” said the prince, turning to him.

“No. I don’t want to jostle her more than I have to.”

“It’s all right, Ransom. I can take it,” she whispered, but Ransom ignored her.

“Eliot, could you get that crate and put it beside the horse?”

In a moment, Ransom swung his leg over the neck of the horse, then gently slid onto the crate and stepped onto the ground. Silently, he carried her into the tent and lowered her delicately onto her cot.

Ransom had held her arm in a sling-like position against his body, and it felt strange to have her out of his arms; it was as if she was imprinted against him.

Her eyes met his, and a feeling rose in his chest, almost making it impossible to breath.

“Thank you, Ransom.” Annabeth whispered, almost closing her eyes to hide the pain he saw in them.

Leaning over her, he brushed away a stray piece of hair that had been plastered against her face.

Just then, her father was beside her and Annabeth shifted her gaze to him.

“There is my Annabeth.”

“I haven’t failed you, have I, Father?” she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes.

“You could never fail me.”

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ANNABETH BIT HER LIP to keep back the cry that swelled in her throat, making it feel hollow and dry.

“It’s all right, Annabeth. There is no need to cry. It’s all over. You’ve held out this long; you needn’t shed a tear.”

The desire to cry built in her chest with a crushing weight. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her father was right; there was no need to cry. No need—the worst of it was over. The pain in her chest eased.

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A MOMENT LATER, THE physician entered and glanced at his patient. His face soured.

“I’ll need help.”

“I’ll help,” Garth offered before Ransom could speak.

The doctor looked him over. “At first I thought you were my patient, but then I saw her.” He glanced at Ransom. “Since it is a young lady, will you enquire if the lady outside will come and help us?”

Ransom went to Lady Christina. She paled at the prospect, but nodded that she would and followed him back towards the tent. Ransom swept aside the tent flap for Christina to enter, but before he could set foot in the tent himself the physician turned to him.

“That will be all. I’ll call if I need anything.”

Reluctantly, he left and stood with Prince Alfred and Eliot. Someone had to keep those two from fighting.

In several minutes, there came a shuddering sound and a sharp outcry of pain from Annabeth. All of the men winced—even Eliot.

A quarter of an hour later, Christina came stumbling through the tent flap, her face white and body shaking. At the sight of Alf, she rushed forward, and he opened his arms to her. Sobs broke from her as she buried her face against his arm.

“Oh Alf, Alf! She did it for us. For us.”

Ransom watched the prince whisper words of comfort in her ear and in a little while Lady Christina tried to compose herself.

Just then a servant came up. “Your highness, Eliot, and Garth are wanted at the kings’ tent immediately.”

For a moment Ransom wondered at the fact that his name wasn’t mentioned and then was glad for it.

Christina slipped inside the tent to relay the message to Garth, and in a moment, Annabeth’s father departed.

Ransom stood anxiously at the entrance of the tent, wanting to come in but wondering if he dared with the snappish doctor waiting to be riled. Annabeth would need peace and quiet to recover.

He listened to the doctor giving orders to Christina about nursing Annabeth back to health. The girl sounded puzzled and flustered. He could sense her turning bright red.

The physician stepped out, calling back through the curtain. “I’ll be back in an hour to check on her,” then adding in a surprised voice as he nearly collided into Ransom, “What are you still doing here, sir? No matter.” He stalked off, filled with his own self-importance.

A moment later, Christina was at the flap. “Oh, thank goodness it’s you! He has left me to nurse Annabeth and I—”

Ransom didn’t need to hear another word. He laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll help if you wish.”

He felt all of her anxiety leave beneath his touch.

“Oh, good. Come in, come in.”

She started to relay all the doctor’s orders word for word, but when it came to the assortment of powders and potions he had left for Annabeth to take, she became confused almost to the point of tears, and she began to wring her hands.

“Oh, I don’t remember a thing he said now.”

“I think I can figure it out well enough,” supplied Ransom. Being a bounty hunter meant having to know some medical basics in order to heal and keep one’s self well.

In a moment, Ransom sorted through the jumble and set everything right.

Now that disaster by Christina was averted, he turned his attentions to Annabeth.

She was conscious—her face pale, her lips pressed tight to keep from crying. At the cool touch of his hand on her hot forehead, she opened her eyes.

The pain was back in full force. Her shoulder had been reset. The chains in the dungeon and the long ride there had upset it painfully.

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BITING HER LOWER LIP was the best she could do to keep back a cry. Annabeth wanted to writhe, but that would only hurt worse, so she wiggled her toes instead.

“It hurts,” she barely whispered to him, then wondered why she had. Even while they had been traveling, when he had bound her wound, she hadn’t admitted it. Why now?

“I know.” His eyes were soft with care. It was then that she realized it: he wanted to know. “I want you to take something that should help and make you sleepy. You need your rest.”

Annabeth nodded her head with a wince, pressing her lips together.

In a few minutes, he placed his cool hand beneath her neck.

“Drink this, then close your eyes. If you want anything you need only ask.”

Annabeth started to nod, then whimpered at the pain as it tingled through her body.

Something bitter passed her lips, but she was in too much pain to care what it tasted like.

Everything started to feel like it was burning around her, and she could not help her whimpers. Gradually she felt nothing, and fell asleep.