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“Levay.”

An interesting name for an interesting woman. “Where exactly am I, Levay?”

“Not a chance, my lady. I will not give you information that you can use against my king.”

Levay tied off the last stitch and cut the thread.

Mer turned her head to the side slightly, meeting the woman’s metallic green eyes. “Am I not your queen?”

The healer smiled. “Not until you prove yourself worthy.”

A sentiment that Mer agreed with. She smiled at Levay. “Very well.” The healer was loyal to the king, but she sensed that the woman had a mind of her own. If Mer played her cards right, perhaps she’d gain a confidant in the healer, which would prove very useful. “Do you have something for the pain in that bag of tricks?”

The healer snorted. “Would you take it if I gave it to you?”

Mer blinked slowly. It was very possible that the king had sent the healer to Mer to drug her. But then why the stitches? “Perhaps.”

Levay smirked. “You’re concussed, my lady. Even if my king had sent me to drug you, my oath comes before the monarchy. It’s too dangerous for you to go into a deep sleep.” She pulled a small green bottle from the basket and uncorked the top. “Decide now if you wish for some relief. I haven’t got all day.”

That settled it. Mer nodded and parted her lips. Levay poured the sour contents into Mer’s mouth, and her eyes watered as she swallowed it. “That swill is disgusting,” she gasped.

“Yes, but it does the job.” The healer shifted on the bed. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you in a little bit to check up on you.”

Mer’s eyes fluttered closed. She didn’t think she’d be able to fall asleep with a stranger watching her.

She awokewith an aching body and sunlight streaming into the bedroom.

Mer slowly sat up and then immediately lay back down, noting Levay was asleep in one of the chairs by the fire. Her head still hurt, but it was significantly less than the prior day. She exhaled and peered up at the ceiling.

She’d tried to kill the Methian king.

He’d thrown her off the back of hisfiilee.

Twice.

And they’d both survived.

Tipping her head to the right, she scanned the space. A side table, candelabras, a door leading to what she presumed was the bathing room. Mer rolled her head to the left. Another side table, a large desk and chair.

Ever so slowly, Mer sat up until her back was leaning against the velvet headboard. Her head pulsed softly, but the dizziness abated quickly. She stiffened as she focused on the unwanted woman by the fireplace.

It was not the healer but the dowager queen.

The regal older woman had her long legs crossed at the knee and leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair while she studied Mer. It was a fight not to reach for her hair and smooth down the short tangled locks that surely looked like a knot of eels.

They said nothing as they appraised each other.

Mer didn’t know much about the dowager queen, only that she’d ruled most of her adult life by herself while raising children alone.

“To what do I owe the surprise visit?” Mer asked. She didn’t want to play games. She was too bloody sore and tired.

“I came to check on my new daughter. You’ve been sleeping for three days.”

No wonder she was so weak.

Mer snorted. “I doubt that. I might have been concussed, but I haven’t forgotten how you looked at me on the dock. If you could have killed me, you would have struck me down right then.”

“A mother’s love. You’ll understand soon enough, my dear,” the dowager queen commented.