Page 17

Chapter 14

IRIS

Loud voices carried from the High Healer’s chambers as I approached the door.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing to find,” High Healer Nora’s calm voice carried through the wood. “You should be pleased.”

The door swung open, and the second voice grew louder. “There has to be, there’s no other?—”

High Healer Nora stood before me, ushering Prince Aspen Gavalon out of her office.

He halted, glaring down at me. A muscle in his jaw ticked once, then twice, before he exhaled sharply through his nose and stepped past without another word.

Despite Queen Genevieve’s insistence we that we begin working together, this was the first time I’d seen him anywhere near the healers’ wing.

“Iris, is there something you need?”

High Healer Nora’s voice pulled me back to the task at hand, and I remembered the crate in my arms.

“I brought more inventory.” I offered her the case, taking care not to jostle the bottles too much. “I saw a few empty spots on the shelves.”

Most of the healers still barely entertained my potions, but two had asked several times now about different tonics. I’d even noticed empty bottles scattered on patients’ bedside tables.

She took the potions and set them on a marble pedestal beside her. “This revitalizing tonic of yours,” she began cautiously, “how does it work?”

I knew Sarek had explained some of the process on his last visit, but her interest in my explanation was encouraging. Perhaps she was coming around.

“It replenishes blood supply, which in turn speeds up the refill of essence reserves. Since the speed of our healing is directly linked to our essence levels, I believe it might allow the inherent Ethera healing—seemingly dormant in patients with the Malum—to reactivate. Even if only temporarily.”

“You think the illness is keeping essence reserves depleted?”

“It makes sense with how our tonics and Medikai magic have impacted it so far.”

“It’s far from a cure.” She picked up one of the bottles, running a nail across the label. “But it’s working?”

“It’s slowing the progression for the patients in Vaelithe,” I confirmed. “It could be the first step of a regimen. Something to be combined with other tonics or healing magic. If anything, it should buy us time.”

“All right.” She nodded, and I couldn’t help the glimmer of hope that sparked.

* * *

After another morning spent listening to Everett Lannish’s stories, I met Theon in the library for lunch.

I curled up in the large armchair across from him and stole a glance out the window. It had been almost a week since I’d gone to the forest for a meal, though most days I still sat where I could see the old spot.

Aspen had never shown up by the trees.

“How’s that patient of yours?” Theon’s question snapped me back to the present. “The one you spend all your time with?”

Everett Lannish was no longer the only patient I tended to in the infirmary, but he was the one I lingered with the most. Now that the healers had started using my tonics more often, I helped administer them when I was there. I collected data from several patients, listening to the stories of those willing to share as we worked.

Everett Lannish always wanted to share.

“He’s tired,” I admitted. “He covers it well, but he sleeps much more now. And the chills have become aggressive, especially at night.”

“The missive from Marikaim could come any day now,” Theon offered, the clank of his armor loud in the otherwise quiet space as he shifted in his chair.

“They’re going to kick you out of here if you don’t quiet down.” I suppressed a grin, the heavy exhaustion ebbing with his levity.

“They love me here,” Theon scoffed. “They need something pretty to look at besides these books.”

The temperature in the room plummeted, smothering our laughter. We both stilled, our eyes locking on the prince standing in the doorway.

His lips set in a harsh line, the faint sheen of ice across the floor the only evidence he left behind as he turned on his heel and disappeared.

* * *

Every interaction with Prince Aspen Gavalon the following week mirrored that moment in the library.

Anytime he found himself in a room I occupied, he left without so much as a backward glance.

In the healers’ wing, in the library, when Theon and I grabbed dinner.

With the number of times I’d watched him leave a room recently, it was a wonder I hadn’t run into him in the castle before. Now he seemed to practically live in the walls.

Like a parasite.

We hadn’t spoken a single word to each other since the meeting in Queen Genevieve’s chambers.

Which was going to make any sort of trip to Marikaim—should the missive return with good news—interesting, to say the least.

He was going to have to learn how to be fucking civil. If he so much as thought about jeopardizing our chances of securing the decoder in any way, I’d figure out how to do it without him.

I stepped out of the infirmary into the long hallway that housed most of the healers’ wing, stopping short when I spotted Theon and Aspen locked in a hushed, heated discussion.

I considered turning back, but Aspen’s head snapped toward me. Any hope of avoiding their confrontation vanished.

I stepped to Theon’s side, but the guard didn’t move.

Several uncomfortable moments passed where I was sure going back to trimming old man Wilmer’s toenails in the infirmary would’ve been more pleasant. Or perhaps impaling myself on a bedpost.

Not even a cough from Theon.

“You seem to have something you’d like to say,” Aspen broke the silence, his piercing blue-grey stare fixed on me.

Don’t draw attention, Iris.

“The things I would like to say would have me drawn and quartered.”

Well, so much for civility.

And then, on cue, he stalked down the hallway toward the entrance of the wing.

“I do not sleep nearly well enough for this,” I grumbled.

“We better follow him,” Theon sighed. “The missive returned, and you’re needed for one last meeting before we leave.”