Page 65 of Salt in the Wound

"And you’re certain this was — necessary. Medically. Culturally. Whatever the mechanism, there was no alternative."

"According to Indrie, no. And I was in no position to seek a second opinion."

Bohdi grunts again. His eyes come up to meet Eskil's and the question in them is not the one Eskil expects.

"What are you planning on doing with our healer now?"

The question is quiet. Careful. The kind of careful that tells Eskil his second-in-command is treading on ground he knows is unstable.

Eskil's jaw sets. He looks past Bohdi, toward the bow of the ship where the crew is working and the sea stretches out and somewhere below deck a young man who gave his body to save a king's life is doing his best not to be seen.

"Did you talk to Indrie?" Bohdi asks. "About the misunderstanding? Before everything?"

"I tried." The words come out serrated, each one catching on its way out. "I started to."

Bohdi's eyebrows rise.

"I wasn’t as calm as I could have been," Eskil says through his teeth. "And he got scared and ran."

The silence that follows is not comfortable.

"And then you ate the fruit," Bohdi says. "So whatever misunderstanding happened on the deck that hurt him is still unresolved."

"Yes."

"And then you slept with him."

The silence that follows is pointed.

"Bohdi —"

"I'm not blaming you." Bohdi holds up his hands, palms out. "You were dying. He made a choice. I'm not questioning his choice or your survival. I'm just —" He drops his hands. "Wondering what we should do. Because the situation has gotten considerably more complicated than it was yesterday, and yesterday it was already a fucking mess."

Eskil can't argue with that.

"I'm going to find Indrie," Eskil says. "I'm going to explain it. Now. Today. Before we reach Valen and this becomes an even larger problem."

"And byexplain it, you mean —"

"Everything. The misunderstanding. The fruit. What happened and what it means and what it doesn't mean and —" He clenches his fists at his sides. "Whatever I need to say. I'll figure it out."

Bohdi nods. "That's for the best."

He straightens. Adjusts the shirt Eskil crumpled. Meets Eskil's eyes one more time with a look that is not judgment and not humor and not pity but something in the territory of all three, tempered with the love of someone who has spent his life beside Eskil and has never once regretted it.

"For what it's worth," Bohdi says, "he saved your life. Not because you ordered him to. Not because he thought he had to. He walked into that room knowing exactly what was required and he did it anyway."

Bohdi turns and walks away, his boots quiet on the deck, and doesn't look back.

Eskil stands behind the mast. The sun is climbing. The ship moves forward. Somewhere below, Indrie is avoiding him, and the reasons why sit in Eskil's chest alongside Bohdi's words and the memory of a small, warm hand pressed against his heart.

He pushes off the mast and goes to find the healer.

Chapter 27

Indrie is doing his best to avoid the king.

He's good at avoidance. He's had years of practice, mapping the routines of powerful men, learning their schedules, identifying the hours and the corridors and the corners of a space where he's least likely to be seen. On a ship this size, with a crew this observant, total invisibility is impossible, but Indrie can get close. He sticks to the hold, the galley, the medical bay. He keeps his head down. He moves when Eskil is at the helm. He works when Eskil is in his cabin. He exists in the negative space of the king's presence, occupying the places Eskil isn't.