Page 13 of The Shattered King

Sten had to retrieve me in the morning; I could not wake at dawn.

I was in such a deep slumber that for several seconds I did not understand where I was, nor did I recognize Sten’s face.

My head pounded as I rose from bed, hurried through my limited morning administrations, and dragged myself to the prince’s room.

“ Just a little longer, Nym, ” Ursa supplied. “ Remember what you always say? ”

I nodded, not sure she would see it. I’ve survived worse.

Much to my dismay, Prince Adrinn was there, leaning against the far wall as Prince Renn shuffled, using a cane for balance, to the sofa.

“A triumph, my good man.” The elder prince spoke with an air that immediately made my hackles rise. “Soon enough you’ll be waddling your way through court.”

“That is the plan,” Prince Renn agreed, his expression a perfect mask. He reached for the back of the sofa, stumbled, but caught himself. I tried to imagine the younger prince choosing to bite instead of roll over, but I couldn’t quite picture it.

Prince Adrinn chuckled. “Not too hasty, there. Not sure your healer could pick you up off the floor.” His frosty eyes cut to me, regarding me longer than I would have liked.

He pushed off the wall, resting one hand on the hilt of a sword strapped to his hip.

Prince Renn had made one solid point—whereas he was thin and sickly, his brother appeared the pinnacle of health.

“I presume you worked things out with Fineway,” Prince Renn said.

“Not to his liking, but yes.”

Prince Adrinn paused a few strides before me, tilting his head, examining me with a scrutiny I loathed but refused to shy away from.

“You,” he said, casually, haughtily, “would be an attractive specimen if you wore something tailored. Ironed out that hair, did something with your eyebrows. Hm.” He touched a knuckle to his chin.

I forced myself to curtsy. “My purpose here is to tend to the younger prince, not to look fair for passing eyes. Your Highness. ”

He snorted at that, then lost interest as quickly as he’d found it and started for the door. Waved absently over his shoulder. “Good day, brother. You should have Mother replace the draperies for a change of pace.”

Perhaps Prince Renn allowed himself to frown because his brother’s back was turned to him. Regardless, I imagined everyone present, guards included, was relieved to see King Grejor’s heir depart.

I worked with Renn as best I could, tired as I was, calling upon that extra bit of magic to compensate.

I made progress with his lumis, though, as before, my repairs did not seem permanent; every time I dowsed I had to touch up the work I’d done before, especially with those pieces of him not, seemingly, connected with his legs.

The doctors had him walk the length of the hallway.

He hated this, I could tell, but he said nothing, and considering the good it did for him, I refused to come to his defense.

He managed well enough. He was getting stronger every day.

Whitestone prescribed him larger meals with more meat, as well as a tonic to take morning and night.

I missed the queen’s visit; I was dowsing into her son while he stared at a danerin board, trying to understand how he was losing even faster than before.

When I tried to leave at dinner, Ard refused to let me, under the queen’s orders.

I finally headed back to my room a half hour after sunset, my legs heavy and back sore.

Lonnie was waiting for me. “Come on, and don’t tell her who you are.”

That gave me pause. “It’s not hard to figure out—”

But Lonnie shook her head. “She can’t know what you’re doing.”

With that discomfort in my gut, Lonnie guided me through the maze of the keep, down corridors I’d not yet seen, for I had no time to explore.

We ended up crossing through the bailey and into a church, an all-gods shrine set up for those who lived within the castle walls.

All six gods were represented in tall frames of stained glass: Hem, Salm, Rolys, Evat, Alm, and Zia.

Each was a child of the god before him—no siblings, no spouses.

The only woman was the youngest, Zia. Who was, of course, the goddess of fertility, anything remotely feminine, and anything mundane or otherwise unimportant, tacked on almost as an afterthought.

I had little time to ogle, as Lonnie pulled me over to an old, dark woman with pearly white hair sitting on a bench before Hem, the king of gods, justice, war, and, well, kings.

Lonnie motioned for me to be quiet, so I crept slowly behind her, though Lonnie made no effort to mask her own steps.

The woman tipped her head at the sound; I noted the milkiness of her eyes.

I felt odd, sneaking in a healing like this.

I had dowsed into unaware patients before, but usually because they’d lost consciousness due to fever or injury, and there was nearly always a friend or family member begging me to help them.

I didn’t understand why Lonnie couldn’t be up-front with the woman, but I needed that letter sent. That mattered more to me than the rest.

“How are you today, Ann?” Lonnie sat beside her.

“Same as always.” Her voice carried the quiver often found in the elderly. “You? That Kilg fellow ask for your hand yet?”

Lonnie blushed. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Oh, I know, all right.”

With the acting skills of a three-year-old, Lonnie said, “Oh, you have some leaves in your hair. Let me get them out for you.”

“Do I?” Ann swept her hand over her hair, uncaring of its neatness.

“Here.” Lonnie stood and motioned for me to come behind them. “Let me. There’s quite a few. Real tiny ones.” She pointed at Ann’s head. I could only imagine Ann was not fond of crafters, and thus would never accept the help of a healer, but I was doing this for Lonnie, so I obliged her.

I dowsed into Ann’s lumis quickly, and a picturesque garden sprawled before me.

I’d seen gardenlike lumie before. Hers was all trellises and nets with climbers.

I found her eyes quickly; the representative plants were completely choked out by brown vining weeds, noxious and knotted, whispering the woman had lost her sight to disease some years ago.

I grabbed them by the base, uprooting them and untangling them as swiftly as possible, unsure how long Lonnie’s ruse would keep the woman occupied.

I pulled free the last stem and dropped it, the magic eating it up with a puff of smoke.

Back in the shrine, I had to sit down. My few hours of sleep aside, so much magic constantly wrung out of me made me weary down to my bones.

“Oh my!” Ann suddenly exclaimed, reaching out toward the image of Hem with shaking hands. “Lonnie ... Lonnie ... I can see ...”

Knowing I was no longer needed, I slid to the end of the bench and crept back toward the entrance, passing under fading flags from centuries past, stopping at a scroll of gold inlaid with mother of pearl, set behind clear glass.

Etched into the scroll was a familiar prophecy: When the kingdoms of men falter, the blood of the Allmaster shall rise up, garbed as an angel of fire, and balm its people as rain to the earth.

Even the less religious knew this scripture; it had been cycled through stories for ages. I didn’t really know what it meant; there were a few interpretations as to what an “Allmaster” would consist of, many taking it to be Hem himself, or the pantheon as a whole.

“You.”

I turned at Ann’s voice, a wayward curl sticking to my eyelashes.

Ann’s eyes were clear now, but hard, and she used a cane to walk toward me, Lonnie nervously following behind. “Are you the healer?”

I glanced to Lonnie.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and I was unsure if she meant it for me or Ann. “It really is a miracle of Hem, though!”

Ann frowned. Took a moment to absorb the new shapes and colors of the room before addressing me again.

“I admit I am happy to have my sight restored; it’s been three years since I lost it.

But healers have passed through these walls before.

I have never sought them out for a reason.

I had accepted the gods’ will for me. I would not have wished it restored this way.

It is sinful. You”—she pointed her cane at me—“are sinful.”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Why is helping people so wrong?” Then, defensively, added, “The monarchy appointed me. Where is craftlock from, if not the gods?”

“Puh.” She lowered her cane. “Are you so unfamiliar with the scriptures, child? Magic seeks to replace the gods. It is wicked. It should remain forbidden. If Hem wants the young prince, he should take him.”

“ Leave her be, ” Ursa whispered, her words faint. They often were, when others were nearby. “ Arguing will not change her heart. Only kindness will. ”

I withheld a growl. I could offer to take her sight away again, but such a thing felt wrong. Cruel, to both of us. So instead I took note from my sister. “Perhaps you are right. I will study them, and reflect.”

This seemed to appease the woman, as well as surprise Lonnie. “Good. And wear your cincture, child. It’s disrespectful not to.”

I left the shrine quickly but waited outside its doors, rubbing the knots in my shoulders. As soon as Lonnie slipped out, I pulled my letter to Lissel from my pocket and pressed it into her hands.

She accepted the letter, pocketed it. “I can get you a cincture, if you want,” she offered. “My father is a priest—not here, but he’d send me one, if I asked.”

“The letter is all I need,” I assured her.

She nodded. “Good night, Nym.”

She headed toward the servants’ quarters. As I turned from the shrine, I felt that cloying sensation of being watched and scanned the atrium, noting Prince Adrinn turning away just before he strode into the shadows. I didn’t see any of his guards.

I walked slowly, trying to recall the path Lonnie had taken to bring me here. I crossed the bailey, entered the south tower. I was too exhausted to hold on to my anger, so instead, a deep sadness filled me, weighing down each step as though someone had strapped iron ingots to my shoes.

You have always been better than me, Ursa, I thought, not daring to speak the words aloud. It should have been you.

You should have been the one who lived.