Page 10

T he vast hallways of the Ocean Palace were as spectacular as the crashing waves outside. For once, I was able to appreciate the palace’s interior without a rushing guard or a groaning faery prince at my side. Huge arched windows allowed sunlight to pour onto swirling staircases, while sandstone columns supported the daintily painted ceilings.

The fashion here was different to Drothmore. Nobles wore much lighter clothing, with summer dresses that swayed around their calves or loose breeches paired with colourful tunics. Even the servants were dressed for the tropical climate. Those working in the grounds wore sun hats with their uniforms, while the wealthier held parasols to fend off the heat. All the while, the rest of the realm battled winter.

“How is it always so warm here?” I asked the young servant beside me – the same mousy-eyed woman who’d arrived at my bedchamber to escort me to Queen Cora.

She adjusted her sleeves timidly. “It’s the merfolk. We don’t know how they do it, but somehow they keep the air hot here to warm the seas.”

“How interesting,” I marvelled. “Can all merfolk control the weather?”

The servant tugged on her sleeves again. “We’re not supposed to talk about them.” I followed her down a quieter corridor. “But I’ve heard it’s only those with the Divine Gift.”

“The Divine Gift?” My eyes narrowed. Where had I heard that phrase before?

A shudder passed through me as memories of the faery palace flooded my mind. More specifically, the quartz-walled dining room where Lyssandra – Arenn’s long-lost sister – had used her magic to show us the past.

Lukas’s parents had met here, on the beaches of Ryntook. His mother was merfolk, and his father was human – but back then, they were so in love that it didn’t matter.

Soon, they were married, and she fell pregnant with Lukas. But after he was born, Ikelos grew tired of his wife having to return to the ocean every few seasons. So one night, while she slept, he slipped a potion past her lips and—

I winced at the memory of Erissa losing her merfolk essence. How her screams had made me beg Lyssandra to stop showing us these awful visions of the past.

But of course, she didn’t stop there. Lyssandra told us how Erissa’s essence had transferred back to the maker of the potion – the Faery Queen – who just so happened to be pregnant at the time with her. Meaning Lyssandra was born half faery and half merfolk.

And after she forced Ikelos to confess to starting the fire that destroyed my kingdom, she summoned a huge serpent-like beast to murder him.

‘She has the Divine Gift,’ the Faery King had said after we’d finally subdued his daughter with my sleeping powder. But what did that mean?

After a few quiet moments, I turned to the servant beside me. “What’s your name?”

“Mae,” she muttered.

A smile pulled at my lips. “Well, Mae, since you seem to know a little about the merfolk, perhaps you could help me understand—” But before I could finish, a familiar voice echoed down the hallway.

“Naria, thank goodness!” Ivy’s brown hair spilled over her shoulders as she charged towards us. Her hands gripped the skirts of her pale green gown, clearly one from Raena’s collection, while her forehead glistened with sweat.

“I’ve been searching all over for you,” she panted. “I found a servant. He’s got some kind of sickness.” Doubling over, her hands pressed against her knees. “It’s fishpox, I think.”

My chest seized. “How certain are you?” If she’s right, this could be bad. More than bad. Catastrophic!

“Quite sure,” she wheezed, pushing herself up. “I told him to stay put while I found you to come and check him.”

Nodding, I reached for the ribbon around my wrist to tie my hair. “I’ll come now.”

“But, Your Highness!” Mae blurted. “The Queen—”

“Will surely understand when I explain myself to her later.” Focused, I gathered my hair into a bun and secured it with the ribbon. “Please, Mae.” I turned the trembling servant. “Will you go and inform Queen Cora that I will meet with her later? Tell her one of her servants may be gravely ill, and if this spreads through her kingdom, thousands could die.”

Mae swallowed, but thankfully after a few short breaths she nodded.

“Thank you, Mae.” I squeezed her arm, then hurried after my Corlixin friend.

The servant wasn’t far, and he’d also stayed true to his promise to stay exactly where he was. Though the latter was hardly surprising considering he was struggling to stand against the mango-coloured wall of the corridor.

“How did you find him?” I hissed to Ivy as we neared the servant.

“I was just taking a walk around the palace,” she panted. “And then when I found this hallway I noticed him sort of stumbling around. So I asked if he needed any help, then the poor soul almost fell on top of me! That’s when I saw the black and white marks on his arms.”

Black and white marks. The tell-tale sign of fishpox. My stomach tightened.

As we approached the hunched over man, we both slowed our running to gentle steps.

“Hello, sir?” I asked tenderly. “My friend here sent for me to check on you. How are you feeling today?”

The man groaned, sweat pouring down his aged face. “I’m fine,” he croaked. “I just need to sit down for a moment, then I’ll be alright. I’m needed in the kitchens.”

Ivy slid me a nervous look.

“May I see your arms, sir? I’m a healer. I can help.” While I reached for his arms, I tried to ignore the concerning thought that if this man was a chef, he could’ve very easily already infected half the palace by now.

“If you must,” he grumbled. Then he rolled up his sleeves, holding his arms out to me.

My jaw hit the floor. Huge spots covered his arms, from his wrists to his shoulders. Each one was black or white, but none of them were oozing. Thank the Ancients.

“It’s definitely fishpox,” I confirmed.

“It’s what?” the man sputtered.

Ivy exhaled, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I have my books with me and my ingredients chest.” She chewed her lip, thinking. “But what worries me is just how much medicine we’ll have to make.”

“There’s no need to worry.” I turned to her, releasing the man’s arms. “I remember the lesson well. As long as the spots aren’t oozing, it’s not contagious. So we’ll make enough for this man and then some spare for his family, just in case they catch it during his recovery.”

“He’s not contagious?” Ivy’s eyes widened.

“Not as far as I can see,” I confirmed, before returning my focus to the hunched man. “Listen to me, sir.” I lowered myself to meet gaze. “You are to return home immediately. Do you have someone there who can look after you while you recover?”

With a thick swallow, he nodded.

“Good,” I continued in a calm tone. “Fishpox is not usually fatal, but it can be without proper treatment. So my friend and I will make you a powder which you’ll need to take as per the instructions we give to you. Is there someone at the palace who can deliver it to your home?”

After exchanging all the necessary information, and assuring the now panicking man many, many times that he was not going to die from his illness, both Ivy and I watched as our patient hobbled away to recover at home. When he disappeared around the corner, I couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at my cheeks.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying his suffering,” Ivy teased.

“You know it’s not that.” I swatted her arm. “It’s just… rewarding, I suppose. Knowing that we’re helping someone.”

Ivy smiled wistfully. “It is…” Then she straightened, adding in a serious tone, “We’ll have to check the kitchens too, make sure no one else is sick there.”

“Yes.” I nodded. Determination blazed in my chest. It was as if someone had creaked open a heavy door in my mind. All the healing knowledge I’ve had to cast aside for the past few weeks spilled out like a gushing river and Ancients , was I ready to dive in.

“Come on.” I linked Ivy’s arm in mine. “Let’s go and make some medicine.”

Hours later, my stomach was a mess of knots as I waited outside the door to Queen Cora’s parlour room. Ivy and I had spent hours crafting the right medicine. Then we took it to the kitchens, found the man’s friend, and made sure to examine the rest of the kitchen staff. Thankfully, there were no other signs of fishpox, but there were a few cases of infected cuts that needed seeing to, burns, sore throats, complaints of aches and pains. The longer we stayed, the more our queue of patients grew.

But it was only when I spotted Mae waiting in the line that I was forced to abandon the makeshift clinic we’d started. With a deeply apologetic look, I left Ivy to deal with the rest and scurried off in search of the Ryntook Queen.

Now I was here, I was resisting the urge to run back and hide in the kitchens.

“Enter,” Queen Cora called from the other side of the door. My stomach dropped, and after taking about ten ‘final’ breaths, I pushed open the door and entered the room.

Inside, Queen Cora was seated at a large round table, surrounded by bookshelves and tropical plants. Evening sun poured in through the huge open windows, along with the distant cawing of sea birds. Sitting beside Cora were the two regally dressed Dalking Queens, and beside them sat a young boy, no older than ten. With his dark, curly hair, warm brown skin, and near-black eyes, he looked strikingly similar to Cora. Her son, I presumed.

He was the only one to offer me a warm smile as I entered.

“Princess Naria.” Queen Cora frowned, lowering her playing cards. “How nice of you to finally join us.” The rest of the table offered me quiet greetings while I buried my numb fingers in my skirts.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

I opened my mouth to apologise but all that came out was a dry squeak. After clearing my throat, I finally managed, “I’m so sorry for missing our morning appointment, I—”

Queen Cora cut me off with a silent raise of her palm. “A young girl came to the grounds to inform me that you were occupied with tending to one of my servants – a man you insisted was gravely ill… Is this true?” The Queen’s tone was cold, emotionless. It made my knees shake as I nodded.

“Naria…” she scolded, and my gaze fell to the floor. But then I was hit by a soft whoosh of ocean breeze from the open windows, followed by the last words I expected to hear. “I understand why you did it and I forgive you for missing your appointment.”

I glanced up. “You understand?”

The anger on her face had settled, replaced by a gentle smile. “I do,” she confirmed, but then her smile dropped. “Although I’m afraid I do not yet forgive you for proceeding to spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchens.”

I stiffened, suddenly feeling like a guilty child who’d been caught sneaking around past their bedtime.

“I also do not yet forgive you for apparently missing both breakfast and lunch. Your betrothed informed me that he hadn’t seen you since this morning. Have you eaten at all today?” She quirked a brow.

“I… umm.” Now that she mentioned it, I was rather hungry. With a queue of patients out of the door, it’d been a little difficult to find time for a break. As if to further prove her point, my stomach let out an angry growl.

“Sit down, Naria,” she sighed. “You can start making it up to me by eating some of the pastries.” She gestured to a plate piled high with fruit tarts and baked pastries in the centre of the table. “Please.”

Without another word, I scurried to a free seat and sat down, grabbing a pastry and bringing it to my lips. I wolfed the jammy thing down with none of the politeness of a princess, but thankfully, Queen Cora didn’t seem to mind. Neither did her son, who chuckled to himself before gobbling a pastry, too.

“Now that you’re here,” Queen Cora smoothed her skirts, “there are a few matters we need to discuss.”

Helping myself to another pastry, I nodded.

“Firstly, I would like to apologise.” My brows shot up at her words. “I’m afraid there must’ve been some kind of misunderstanding. Your delightful friend, Raena, informed me that a plate of poerfish was delivered to your room after the meeting yesterday.” I didn’t miss the quiet gag from across the table, or Queen Cora’s offended scowl that followed it. “I understand that this fish is an acquired taste so of course I would never have arranged for a plate of it to be delivered to one of my honoured guests, and I deeply apologise that this occurred.”

My eyes narrowed, but before I could consider just how that ended up in my bedchamber, the Queen continued.

“Secondly,” she paused, trying to find the right words, “I know that you are new to this world and that you can hardly be blamed for any ignorance when it comes to prioritising certain duties – especially considering your unusual upbringing—”

“There is nothing unusual about growing up in the forest,” Sadie, the harsher-looking Dalking Queen, cut in.

I glanced her way. The woman’s ashy blonde hair was tied in a tight knot beneath her crown while her wife, seated beside her, wore her hair in long brown waves. With their matching forest-green gowns, there was no denying which kingdom they ruled over. The only confusion I had was why they were both here, playing cards at a table with Queen Cora.

“Of course, forgive me,” Cora chuckled. “It’s easy to forget we are in the presence of tree people .”

I almost choked on my pastry.

“At least we do not share baths and eat manure fish,” Colette, the other Dalking Queen, spouted.

There was a wave of silence. Cora’s mouth twitched. And then, as if a curtain to the rest of the palace had fallen, the three queens were laughing like old friends. I blinked at the scene before me. Of course, rulers were allowed to have friends, but they’d all seemed so formal at the ball last summer, so focused on their kingdoms. Perhaps Lukas could learn a thing or two.

Sadie swiped a pastry from the centre of the table before leaning back in her seat and tossing the whole thing into her mouth. “You are being too harsh on the girl,” she remarked, somehow still graceful with a mouthful of jam. “As if you didn’t miss all our meetings back when you were sneaking around with that guard you now call a husband.”

“We were not sneaking around .” Cora blushed. “We were courting.”

“Behind bookshelves in the library courtyard?” Colette smirked.

Sadie grinned too before raising an eyebrow at Cora. “And don’t forget that time we caught you two in the armoury.”

“Hush,” Cora hissed. “Little ears are listening.” She motioned towards her son, who was far too busy munching on a tart to care for their conversation.

“Apologies.” Sadie held up her palms. “But my point still stands. Listen, Naria.”

I straightened up at the sound of my name.

“Kings and Queens do not care if you miss appointments or meetings or whatever duty you’re needed for, as long as you have a good reason, and it sounds like today you did. But.” I swallowed at her tone shift. “As much as you might want to, you can’t be prioritising your hobbies over your kingdom.”

My brows knitted together. In truth, I could understand her point, but… “I’m not sure if I would consider tending to sick servants a hobby,” I replied with a frown.

Sadie glanced at Queen Cora, who shook her head.

“Yes, but from what I heard you were not alone in the kitchens,” Cora pointed out. “You had another Corlixin girl with you, treating servants, correct?”

My shoulders sagged as I nodded.

“There, now you see our point. We are rulers, dear, and someday you too will have a palace and advisors and all manner of delightful things that come with a crown.” Cora’s tone was gentle but still firm enough to make guilt churn in my stomach. “And you will not have time to be tending to servants when you’ll have enough problems of your own to deal with. Problems like ensuring your people have enough food to survive winter. Kingdom-sized problems. Do you understand now?”

Somehow, I managed a small nod. For years, I’d known these responsibilities would come. No matter how hard I studied my herbs back in Honeymeade or how long I put off my official coronation, there would come a day when I’d have to accept the crown my parents had left for me.

The crown heavier than my now pounding head could handle.

“Chin up, Naria,” Sadie rapped her hand against the table. “You’ll still have some time to yourself after your duties are done.” A proud smile pulled at her cheeks. “Mine is spent running, tending to our vast orchards, and,” she glanced at Queen Colette,” ensuring my lovely wife has an endless supply of flowers for her collages.”

Colette batted her lashes sheepishly.

“I like to sail!” the young prince piped up beside me.

“Yes you do. Thank you, Ralfi.” Cora hid a laugh behind her hand.

“This is your son?” I asked her.

With a proud smile, she nodded. “Raphael, meet Princess Naria. You remember the young lady I was telling you about? The one from the fallen medicine kingdom?”

“Of course, Mother.” He glanced up at me with big, innocent eyes. “Mother said we’re all supposed to be really nice to you because you’re probably scared, and she said that last time you met, you were acting really silly at the party and kept falling over and—”

“That’s enough, Ralfi,” Cora snapped, her face turning the colour of steamed crab. Raphael turned to her, confused, while both Dalking Queens tried their best to hide their laughter.

“It’s alright,” I chuckled, letting the three queens laugh with me. “I suppose I was acting quite silly at the Summer Ball.” Memories of far too many goblets of crimson wine sloshed around my head. “And I was quite nervous.” My throat tightened. “I still am…”

Cora leaned across the table to take my hand. “We’re all here to help you, Naria,” she assured me.

“Well, clearly all apart from—” Colette’s quiet voice cut off when Sadie pinned her with a glare.

Cora sighed. “We will deal with the Hallshires. They may just need time to come around to you, but together, we’ll find a way to mend whatever rift Marigold has created between you.”

“However insignificant it may be,” Colette huffed.

“Indeed.” Cora squeezed my fingers before settling back in her seat. “Now, let’s discuss your kingdom. Ralfi, deal Naria a hand of cards.”