Gavin couldn’t help but feel a bit badly about the whole thing, once he’d dragged the boy away from the camp and the battle-madness that had come over him. He was limp, mumbling, in-and-out of consciousness. Occasionally, he moved like he would try to scramble to his feet…but he was too week and disoriented to do it, and the concussion was clinging to him like a shroud. The Pegasus Gavin snorted, frustrated. This one was supposed to be a hostage, not a casualty – it would not do for him to die here. So when his prisoner went dark again, it warranted a change of tactic.
He released the boy, took a few steps backward. In the privacy of his only witness’ unconsciousness, Gavin transformed from the mythic beast into his own self.
Details would be wrong, he knew. He was too well-dressed, in fine slacks and a button-down shirt; his skin was too clean to have just come from the battle. But the boy was delirious and Gavin had magic on his side, the kind that twisted and insinuated and convinced. He would be a pliable target.
Gavin knelt down next to him and roused him gently, with a hand to the shoulder.
“Hey kid, stay with me,” he breathed, all silk and gentleness. When the boys eyes blinked open, unfocused, Gavin helped him to his feet. “You’re pretty banged up. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
A true friend of Tristan’s would have argued, would have run…but the words were suffused with that power of suggestion, tricking his feelings into trust. Whoever this stranger was, he was there to help. Slinging the boy’s arm over his shoulders, Gavin escorted him toward the stone dragon.
The way would be confusing to the boy, between the night and the ringing pain. They shambled forward, like a pair of drunks.
Eventually they came upon the tavern. From the outside, nothing seemed to be amiss – though Gavin could spy a guard moving behind a window, and was sure the place was on lockdown by now. He moved for the door, half-carrying the boy he’d caught, and knocked briskly when they reached it.
“A gift for the king,” he informed the guard on the other side. The door swung open, and the veneer of friendliness vanished from Gavin’s face. He handed the boy off to the men standing inside.
“I believe Tristan will miss this one.”
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