"No." He tries to push the flask away, but I keep it pressed to his lips.

"Drink," I repeat.

He makes another attempt to avert his face, but I hold him firmly in place.

"Don't act like a baby. You need this."

He lets out one of those long, ragged breaths that have only recently replaced his sobs, and opens his lips a little, allowing me to pour some wine into his mouth. It doesn't go down well. He coughs and resumes his weak attempts to wriggle out of my arms.

I have no intentions to let him sink back into the unresponsive, hysterical state he's spent the last quarter of an hour in. We need to get out of here, ride to the palace, get someone to help Hugo and take care of so many other things. I need him in a semi-sane state to even begin any of these.

"Drink more," I say. "It'll do you good."

I wait patiently, trying to ignore the wetness sinking through the fabric of my trousers from the damp moss I'm sitting on. Apparently realizing that I'm not letting go, he sits a little straighter in my arms and grabs the flask. Without looking at me, he upends it over his mouth. I hold him with his back to my chest, allowing his head to rests on my shoulder as his body shudders with each swallow. It's good wine and it will help dull whatever pain he's feeling.

He flings the empty flask away.

"Happy now?" he says, his voice rusty.

I don't reply but loosen my grip a little. He remains seated, leaning on me, looking away. We spend another minute in silence interrupted only by the birds in the trees. My hands wrapped around him register his heartbeat slowing down and his breathing getting steadier.

I point at still unconscious Hugo. "We must get moving. The boy needs a healer."

"Such a kind ruler," Emilio mutters hoarsely. "So caring for his subjects."

Taking the return of his sarcasm for a good sign, I slowly unwrap my arms and detach from him, then get slowly up to my feet. He remains sitting instead of curling back on the ground, which is also a good sign, but makes no attempts to follow me. I move to stand in front of him, extending my hand.

"Get up."

He looks at me, his face smeared with tears and dirt. Slowly, he raises his hand and grabs mine. I pull him up and then steady him by the shoulders when he sways a little.

I survey his ragged appearance. It'll be no good if someone sees him like this, so I take off my cloak and drape it over his shoulders. It's short, only barely reaching my thighs when I wear it, but it covers him down to his knees. All the while he just stands there, tolerating my manipulations, staring searchingly at my face.

"Can you walk?" I say. "If not, I'll carry you to the horse."

"Don't do it," he says. "Don't pretend to be kind."

I pause, frowning. "What?"

"Don't act like you care," he says. "Because you don't. Why don't you just finish me off to save yourself the embarrassment?"

"What embarrassment?"

"Of everyone learning what's happened here." His lips twist bitterly. "You don't need me anymore, anyway. I'm just a whore to you now, am I not? Spoiled forever. With your aversion to whores, why would you tolerate one in your harem?" His eyes fill with tears once again, his face distorts with the effort to hold them back.

"You're not...that." I'm only beginning to comprehend the full implications of what has happened, but one thing I know for sure. "Whatever has happened here was not your fault."

"But it was!" he cries out, and new tears roll down his cheeks. "He wanted to meet with me, to talk about you, and I agreed. I thought it was safe, being with my servant and my guard, but the guard worked for Messenio, it turned out, and they just...killed... her..."

I tighten my grip on his shoulders and look into his pained, swollen eyes.

"Stop it," I say. "Don't think about it now. Where did the guard go?" I look around, suddenly apprehensive of another attack. Until now, I have assumed that Messenio has acted alone.

"I don't know," he says. "After they've tied me up, the guard demanded payment, and Messenio left with him. Then he came back, alone, and then..." He chokes on his words and I hold him to my chest, hoping to keep him from plunging back into hysterics.

I look around again, calmer now, for the chances that Messenio has paid the guard and simply let him walk away are too slim. He wouldn't have left an eyewitness. Most likely, the river is now carrying the guard's body to the sea.

"Calm down," I say. "It's over now. Messenio's dead."

"Yeah," he mutters against my chest. "You keep killing assassins before finding out who's sent them."

"There's no need to look any further." I sigh. "He's sent himself. Chances are, he's sent the poison as well." I shake my head, saddened by the thought. "He always had to get what he wanted. He attacked you because he wanted you, and he tried to poison me because he wanted my throne."

He shifts and looks up, frowning. "Your throne?"

"My father has had a few children with wives that weren't the Main One, namely my mother," I say. "Although they have no legitimate claim, I guess without me in the way, he thought he'd stand a chance." I look down into his questioning eyes. "Messenio was my half-brother, you see?"

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