Sweat beaded on Keeva's brow, should she try to wait Murtagh out or tell him the truth? If she told him the truth, would he kill her? She took a steadying breath and felt the knife's steely cool edge as she did so.
"I'll give you one more chance Princess, after that…." His words trailed off, leaving her imagination to complete his sentence. Her heart was pounding; she glanced at Arya and Aradan.
It looked as though Arya had drifted back to sleep. Aradan still slept. Keeva glanced at the sky; it would be time to feed him soon.
Would his cry cause Murtagh to do something drastic? The man was on pins and needles as it was; would he kill her or aim for the source of the sound?
Keeva's heart stopped at the thought of him killing Aradan, she tried to shift her body between him and her son but Murtagh held her still.
"I'm waiting…" He said, a growl dangerously enhancing his words.
" I'm not who you think I am…" Keeva said trying desperately to throw him off. Maybe if she told him only part of the story it would be enough.
"I wouldn't be to sure of that Lady Aerlinniel daughter of Prince Uruvion." He whispered into her ear. Keeva's eyes closed and her shoulders drooped.
"Then you already know why the King wants me dead, don't you Murtagh?" I said, pain filling my voice. It had been years since someone had called me that; it seemed like a lifetime ago…
"It would seem that that is part of it, but you're holding something back… what is it?" His voice had changed drastically, the cold malice that had occupied his tone only moments before had changed to… sympathy? "Are you going to run or try to kill me if I let you go?" He asked gently, hope filling his voice.
"No…" I answered; I was baffled by his change of heart. Was it to trick me or was he serious? Slowly he lowered the knife from my throat and sheathed it. He turned his back on me running his hand through his hair.
There was a long gash running from his shoulder down to his elbow on his right arm. "You're bleeding" Keeva said as she stepped forward to examine the wound. He pulled away from her touch, pain and fear evident in his eyes though he had not made a sound. Keeva watched him sit down next to the fire.
"It needs stitches" Keeva said as he stared into the fire. He was handsome but it looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. How old was he? He couldn't be more than 23 or 24.
"Its fine" Murtagh whispered still staring into the fire. Keeva's heart went out to him. What had this man been through? He was young but the wisdom in his eyes surpassed his age.
"Please?" Keeva whispered gently. Murtagh looked up from the fire and stared at her. His blue eyes were full of emotions that he seemed unable to control or accept. After awhile he nodded.
Keeva smiled gently as she grabbed some wood and put it on the fire. The more the light hit the wound the worse it looked. It was deep and oozed blood and puss. She took her hand and gently touched Murtagh's forehead; he jumped and almost swatted her away, then settled back down. He was burning up with fever.