The Knight's Eyes

25: THE JOG

KIT POV

Pain and misery he felt for seven days now. He could barely move without puncturing needles through his muscles and bones.

"Be still," Miss Walta told him bringing the small cup of warm green tea to his dry lips.

He took a slurp and gasped at the ache festering his neck as the liquid went down. He closed his eyes wanting to feel the wetness of tears, but as the days had come and gone, his body had dried up like a raisin.

"W-what," he faintly said now looking into Miss Walta's pinkish eyes sunken and drained from hours of unrest and worry.

She placed a finger in the air, "Shush, Kit. Don'tcha speak."

He wanted to know what would happen to him above what had happened to him. He still cursed the princess mentally, but physically he just wanted it all to go away. Death was not an option. He didn't want to die. He hadn't received the opportunity yet to avenge his family and village.

Hard footsteps worked their way up the stairs, down the narrow hall, and into Alsin's room. Weary wrinkles had formed along Master Citrus' forehead. He scratched his gray head while his other hand fumbled with the hilt of his great sword. He looked like an old clueless knight, which made Kit worry about him. They both were too old for what was going on yet they still stayed calm and alert so not to get him scared. It worked at times, but nothing could completely do away with his fears for good.

"What is it?" Miss Walta asked rising to her feet and placing the cup on the nightstand.

"It's raining droplets as red as blood."

Kit turned his gaze to the left as far as his stiff neck would let him. Only his left ear could pick up the pounding of raindrops on the roof for his right one had numbed over the past days. He never told them for their sake.

"It's blood for sure."

"It could be. Whatever it is, it's not affecting the cravers in the street."

"Oh gods, they're still there?"

He nodded and shook his head, confused, "It's as if they're guarding this very house."

"I wish they get so we can take Kit to Allen," she whispered to Citrus across the room.

Citrus scrunched his nose and shook his head with great defiance, "You keep mentioning this man. He's an enemy of the king and the kingdom."

"Says who? The bloody fool on the throne?" she said voice elevating in agitation.

"I am not taking Kit to a prisoner."

"That prisoner was once your friend. That prisoner was once your physician. 'emember that Citrus."

"I remember quite clearly. But I'm not about to put my position on the line."

"Oh that fool won't care. Look what his whore did to Kit."

Master Citrus was not having it. His head violently shook side to side. "Call the royal family out of their names again and I'll..."

"You'll what?" Miss Walta shouted rising onto her tiptoes to glare into the old man's angry eyes. "What'll ya do? Turn me in and get me caged in eh? Ha you're a fool to still hold respect for those two after what she did to Kit."

"What exactly did she do? How can a scratch cause him ill? Maybe he got it infected."

Miss Walta sharply turned away, stalked to the bed, grabbed his right arm, and raised it high. "Look at it!"