The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 30

The king was dead.

And because some idiot assumed that "the Serpentine" had somehow escaped singlehandedly and slaughtered five armed guards on his way out, Nyle was the prime suspect in his murder.

It was only normal, Lillian supposed, to assume that the boy who'd been beaten and nearly scourged to death was in good enough health to somehow kill one of the most heavily guarded men in the world.

A clue: no.

Sam seemed to feel the same way.

"That's bloody ridiculous!" he exclaimed when Lillian called he, Crynia, and Chad into the room to speak with the queen. Clenching his jaw, he glanced at Nyle. "What genius came up with that idea? Look at him." He gestured angrily at Nyle's body. "He looks awful."

"Hey," came a mumbled, sleepy protest from Nyle's chapped lips. "I resent that."

"You're awake." Lillian left her post by the door and crouched by his bedside, beside where Crynia sat in her straight-backed chair, keeping his pulse. Carefully, she cleared the hair away from where it'd fallen over his golden eyelashes. Drowsily, he roused himself enough to open his eyes and watch her. She pursed her lips at the hazy, detached quality of his gaze. His fever was getting higher. "How much did you hear?"

Nyle attempted a grin and a small shrug, but shut his eyes with a hiss when it broke open a scabbed-over lash on his shoulder. Lillian snatched a clean bandage from the bedside table and gently pressed it against the wound to stop the blood beginning to trickle down his arm. She'd taken the poultice off when the queen had insisted they move him out of the castle. It'd be difficult and painful, but she'd have to wrap bandages around his torso to limit bleeding.

"I heard enough to know that I've been framed for murder and treason, among other things," Nyle said wryly, his voice cracking with pain. "Didn't know I was capable of wielding an ax in my condition. You learn new things every day, yeah?"

"There wasn't an ax," Crynia said, knitting her brow. Worriedly, she glanced at Lillian. "Is he delirious?"

Lillian put the back of her hand to his forehead. "Maybe."

"No, I'm not," Nyle insisted, glaring up at her. He looked so doleful that Lillian had to fight back a smile. And then his glare melted into a thoughtful expression. "Lil, why do you have three eyes?"

"That settles it," Crynia said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair with a satisfied expression. "You're delirious."

Nyle smirked. "Joking. She's only got two, and they're very pretty."

Lillian fought back the flush creeping up her neck. "Sam?"

"Hmm?" came the distracted reply.

"Remind me never to let him have alcohol again."

Sam smirked and crossed his arms, leaning against the latrine doorframe. "Gladly. Although the bad sense of humor is a nice change from his usual irritating seriousness." He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "And I must say, flirting suits you, buddy. You should try it more often."

Nyle glared at him. Sam grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. Crynia groaned and put her face in her hands, and Chad rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and yawned.

"Anyway," the queen cut in, giving them all a reprimanding look that only a mother could master, "we have to lower him out the window. The halls are crawling with guards. And we'll have to hurry if we want to get him out of sight before they come to search these rooms."

Lillian turned back to Nyle and pressed her palm to his forehead again, pursing her lips. If his fever would just break... "Nyle, do you think you can stand?"