Lady Linnea nodded. “Could you kill him?”
“I don’t know,” Gemma admitted.
“He will make you hate him enough that you will want to,” Lady Linnea said.
“Yes, but I don’t want to become a person capable of murder.”
“You are right. I wish to shield you from that as well. I don’t think you could handle it. We’re very different, you know,” Lady Linnea said. “You are like the ice and snow that you love so much. Dazzling, without blemish, and a cover that makes all things beautiful.”
Gemma cracked a smile. “That’s romanticizing me quite a bit.”
Lady Linnea shook her head. “You bring out the good in people, and those who scorn you, you freeze with your eyes and words. So, it’s a good thing I am your friend and companion.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I am a sword, dangerous and deadly. And Gemma, I will not hesitate to kill the king to save you,” Lady Linnea said, her voice hard. “It will not be tomorrow, or perhaps even this year, but I will free you. I promise.”
As Gemma studied Lady Linnea, she saw that the noble woman was serious. Lady Linnea was a soldier at heart: dedicated, loyal, and willing to shed blood to make a difference and to fight for what was right. This was a real vow. Gemma could see it in the coldness of her eyes and the set of her chin. Lady Linnea would kill for her, and Gemma thought it likely she would succeed. “I don’t want to force that burden on you,” Gemma said.
Lady Linnea smiled. “You aren’t. And it’s not like anyone will truly care. Tor—some people will mourn what was. But the prince will make a better king.”
Gemma pushed an eyebrow up. “Oh? Not long ago you were telling me he was far more stupid than you originally estimated.”
A pink blush heated Lady Linnea’s cheeks. “That was before I knew him. He’s different from his father. He is willing—someone just needs to teach him about love.”
“Will you be the one to do that, My Lady?”
“Goodness, no!” Lady Linnea snorted. “I still want to see the world. I want to observe Commanding General Severin and set eyes on the famed military of Erlauf. I want to meet a female captain of Farset and perhaps even speak to an assassin from our very own assassins’ guild.”
“Are you certain?”
“Toril can’t love someone like me, Gemma,” Lady Linnea said. “I’m too brash and bloodthirsty. He likes the sweet, delicate girls. Like Princess Elise.” Gemma thought she could discern the same note of longing in Lady Linnea’s voice that the young woman used when she spoke of visiting other countries, but judging by the pain in the last admission, it was unlikely the lady wanted to address her affection for the Verglas prince.
“Is that so,” Gemma said.
“But enough of that. Your hand does look horrible. Do you think you can guess which of these wretched-smelling ointments are best for…what, is that, a burn?” Lady Linnea said, digging through her basket.
“Yes.”
Lady Linnea hissed through her teeth. “It looks nasty. How did you manage to get it? Moreover, how did you manage to escape?”
“The mage,” Gemma said, opening a pot and grimacing at the smell.
“Uh-huh,” Lady Linnea said, unconvinced. “Oh, this is it! I remember—the real healer told me this one is good for burns. It has a very distinctive smell—like horse droppings.”
“That was not the best way to endorse its use,” Gemma said.
“If it kills the pain and heals the skin, does it matter what ingredients are used?” Lady Linnea asked, passing the little container over. “Besides, I think the healer said the main ingredients were vinegar, honey, and potato peelings.”
Gemma wiped the smelly balm on her hand, wincing when her fingers traced the tender skin. Although the smell was noxious, the ointment began to soften the pain almost immediately.
“Here, I can at least bandage your arm,” Lady Linnea said, waving a roll of bandages.
“How did you learn?”
“I read the Erlauf army makes sure all of their soldiers know how to wrap wounds, so I found a book in Papa’s library,” Lady Linnea said, starting to clean and wrap Gemma’s hand and arm. “Toril told me what you can expect: King Torgen is indeed holding the wedding tomorrow. Tonight, a wedding dress will be delivered to your rooms, and the ceremony is to commence before the noon hour tomorrow. It seems that a squadron will be posted out your door all night and in the courtyard below. Unless you want to see all those men killed, I do not think you can escape.”
“No,” Gemma agreed. “We will see what my security measures are like after the wedding,” she said, stifling the desire to flinch.
“Yes,” Lady Linnea said, her reply heavy with unspoken words. “Is there no possibility that your sweetheart will try to rescue you tomorrow?”
