Page 17 of The Shattered King

“However,” I pressed, “it is not all of who you are. Just as being the third-born of King Grejor is not all of who you are. You are patient, you are dedicated, you are well read. And you’re an absolutely terrible danerin player.”

He snorted. Waited a few heartbeats before replying, “I’m impressed you noticed.”

“I am often the one on the other side of the board.”

“Not the game, Nym,” he said, startling me with the second use of my name. “The rest.”

I mulled over my response. “I think there is a lot about you that others fail to notice, Your Highness. I think there is a lot you fail to notice, as well.”

He frowned. “You underestimate how much time I’ve spent with myself.”

“It’s not a matter of time spent,” I replied carefully, “but the quality of it.” I worried my lip. “Your Highness ... do you like yourself?”

He pulled back as though I’d presented him with a snake. The air between us seemed to thicken. Even Sten tensed. After a moment a fraction too long to feel casual, he retorted, “What an insipid question.”

I eyed him the way I eyed Colt when I knew he was lying.

But there seemed nothing left to say, and I did not know how far I could stretch the day’s grace, so I picked up the soiled basin of water and placed it on its table in the corner.

As I returned, the prince said, “I’ll have you know I beat both Sten and Ard at danerin just this morning. ”

I glanced up at Sten, who shrugged a single shoulder. “Did you win, or did they let you win?”

Twisting, the prince looked at Sten, who stared straight ahead as though he were guarding the front door of the keep.

“In regard to your illness”—I drew his attention back to me—“I would like to meet with other healers. I assume there are some in the city who have tried dowsing into you.”

He hesitated. “Yes, we started the search here. But they were unable to help me.”

“But they may have insights or other experiences that could help me ,” I pressed. “If you could summon them to the castle, allow me to meet with them, I might be able to find a new means of curing you.”

He looked skeptical.

“A hive cannot function with only one bee,” I said.

Raising an eyebrow, he said, “An interesting metaphor. I haven’t read much on bees.” He contemplated for a few seconds. “All right. I’ll see it done.”

The door opened then, Ard holding it as a footman stepped in with a tray of meats, cheeses, and fruits. Prince Renn moved the danerin board, and the footman set the tray down, bowing deeply before wordlessly vanishing the way he’d come.

“I’m sure you’re hungry,” the prince offered, thumbing a grape. “You should eat.”

I stared at him, again questioning if I was truly awake or not. When I did not answer nor move, he looked over at me, expectant.

“That?” I gestured to the tray. “Here? Now?” How hard did I hit my head last night?

He looked crestfallen. “Please sit. Do not make me explain my negligence to you.”

Seemed that grace was going to stretch a long way.

I cautiously moved toward the tray. Sat. Took a piece of cheese, and to my shock, the queen didn’t barge in and slap it out of my hand.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

He nodded and did not meet my eyes.

After our meal, which was the second-best food I’d had in Rove after Lonnie’s filched pastry, I dowsed into Renn for a solid hour, working through the pieces of him, breaking when Whitestone arrived to take him for a walk.

He tied light weights around Renn’s ankles once we reached the castle grounds to better strengthen his legs, and I trailed behind with Sten.

We passed a groundskeeper—or maybe he was a stable hand—and he gave me the same odd look as the maids in the tower. As Ard.

“Why is everyone acting so strangely around me? Is fainting so off-putting?”

Sten shrugged his usual shrug, not answering me.

I feared I knew what it might be, if rumor truly spread through the castle so swiftly, but I did not voice it.

I dowsed into Prince Renn once more before we returned to his suite, at which point he said something I never could have anticipated coming from his lips.

“You’re excused for the day.”

I stood near the pitcher and basin—which had been cleaned and refilled—with my mouth hanging open. When I did not move, he repeated himself. “You’re excused for the day.”

I looked out the window. The sun wasn’t even setting. It couldn’t have been later than seven o’clock.

I fumbled with my words. “Are ... you sure?”

The intense blueness of his eyes met mine. “I will send for you if and when I need you. Else I expect you in the morning.”

Not wanting him to rescind the offer, I departed quickly, adjusting my red sash as I went.

I supposed I would eat in the kitchens today, something I’d yet to do.

But there was something else nagging at me, something I would use my newfound freedom to confirm, first. A girlish jubilation rose in me as I went, my step light.

Ursa, I should have poisoned myself a month ago, if this would be the outcome.

I crossed the bailey without problem, but got several odd looks as I got closer to the barracks.

Not the same as the ones I’d received previously, I did not think, but more so because I was a woman, especially one without livery, winding into barracks of male soldiers.

Still, I kept my head high, searching faces and seeing none familiar.

Finding a man with less red on his uniform, as well as the emblem of a phoenix on his shoulder, I approached respectfully.

“Sir, I beg your pardon, but is Brien Tallowax stationed here?”

“ You were sent to find him, ” Ursa suggested.

“He’s being summoned,” I tacked on.

He eyed my sash, likely trying to place me and coming up short. “It’s not familiar.” He sighed, like I was interrupting something. “One moment.”

I tried not to bounce on my toes as he crossed the path and entered a stoutly erected tent. I waited nearly ten minutes before he returned. “Your instructions must be wrong, miss,” he said, dashing the slivers of my remaining hope. “I’ve no record of a Tallowax here.”

Pasting on a smile, I curtsied. “Thank you for your time.”

I headed back, angling toward the kitchen.

“ Maybe he’ll transfer here, ” Ursa offered.

“Even if he did,” I spoke under my breath, “I hardly doubt my liege’s good graces will last long enough for me to see him.”

When I reached the lesser dining hall and the long table where the servants ate, I noticed a couple of them behaving unusually, avoiding my eyes or leaning into each other to whisper. Not all did, however, and I spotted Lonnie, who greeted me cheerfully.

“Nym! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” I smiled. “I’m finally here .”

It wasn’t home, but it was an improvement. I got a bowl of soup and a hard roll, then sat across from Lonnie and the man who had fetched me to heal Torr, named Kilg. I was relieved to see him—he’d had more exposure to his friend than anyone else, but he seemed well.

Lonnie told me about her day, about someone falling into the laundry and her trip into town for salt, and the normalcy of the conversation settled on me like a warm blanket.

I listened raptly, enjoying the banter between her and Kilg.

I offered my condolences to the latter when Lonnie rose to clear her dishes.

“I appreciate you came at all,” he confessed. “I know you are devoted to His Highness Prince Renn at all times.”

“I am happy to help. I worry Torr was contagious. Have you felt well these last few days?”

He nodded. “Killed four rats, too.”

“May I?”

He hesitated, but extended his hand across the table. “I’m not sure how—”

I touched his finger and dowsed into him, his lumis like a miniature city made of ice, the tallest building coming to my hip. I looked over him but saw no sign of the illness. Relieved, I let myself fall out and retracted my hand.

“You look well.”

“What does it look like?” he asked.

I explained it to him as Lonnie returned, and she then asked me how her own lumis compared.

I explained the set of scales to her, then soon had another man and woman sidling up beside me, asking me to describe their lumie.

I felt a little like a show pony, but I was so happy to be among other servants I obliged, telling the first he was a painting, not too dissimilar from Torr’s, and the second she was a collection of cairns carefully balanced.

I straightened one of them, and when I released her, she tilted her head to one side.

“My back feels better. Did you do that?”

It did not surprise me that the servants accepted my craft more easily than the nobility did; we came from humble means and welcomed any help we could get.

Healing was a gift, and I would never let anyone convince me otherwise, not even the overtly devout Ann, who loved her gods more than her own sight.

My talent affronted a maid, who turned down my offer to check her.

Those who had been whispering about me when I entered had left.

The man with the painting, Kard, lingered after the others had taken away their dishes, Lonnie having offered to return mine.

They all had work yet to do, leaving me with an hour or two to do as I pleased, and I hadn’t the foggiest idea how I would spend them.

He said, “It really is miraculous, that you can do that. That the prince is walking again.”

“Thank you.” I stood; he stood as well.

“I’m free for the night,” he offered. “There’s a new candy shop that opened—”

“No,” I said, perhaps too sternly, the way he half choked as I interrupted him.

“Thank you, but no.” Never. I hadn’t so much as considered a man since Ford, and I never planned to again.

Not look at one, not touch one, not think about one.

I couldn’t if I wanted to. My mind ...

it just didn’t work that way. Not anymore.