Chapter 5: No Treaty

By the next evening, every guard in Hallgard Keep had heard how the hostage stood in front of the duke's sister with a sword.

The two men from the north landing stood at attention outside Elior's door, and they would not meet his eyes.

One of them said, "Highness," in a thick voice and bowed lower than he needed to.

Elior thanked him and closed the door.

He did not feel like a hero.

His arm throbbed under its bandage, and a key hung on a string inside his shirt.

He had spent the whole day thinking of a hand laid flat on his skin.

At nightfall he took the key out and looked at it.

Then he put it back, went out of his room by the ordinary door, and walked down the hall to the study.

He knocked this time.

"Come."

Teodric sat at the desk with the black book open in front of him and the lamp turned low.

He stood up at once.

"Your arm," he said.

"Is it bleeding?"

"It's fine."

Elior shut the door behind him and stayed with his back against it.

"I want to say something, and I want you to let me finish."

Teodric nodded once.

"I am not here because of the grain.

"I am not here because you stitched me up, or because the guards are afraid of you, or because I am afraid of them.

"I am not here as the pledge."

His voice shook, so he made it louder.

"There is no treaty in this room.

"There is you, and there is me, and I am asking."

Teodric did not move.

For a moment Elior thought he had said it wrong.

"Asking what?" said the duke, very low.

"Don't make me say it twice."

"I would like to hear it once, clearly."

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