Page 18 of The Shattered King

I turned and left the kitchens without looking back and determined to go to my room, since I didn’t know where else to be, and I still didn’t have a wage to take into town.

I passed a lamplighter bringing sconces to life as I entered the keep and climbed the stairs to my corridor.

I’d just stepped into the tight hallway leading to my chamber when a middle-aged woman asked, “Nym Tallowax?”

I paused, studying her. I didn’t recognize her. She had a row of pins stuck in the shoulder of her dress—black and red, but not standard livery—a violet cincture around her waist, and a measuring tape around her neck. Her hair was hastily pulled into a bun.

“Can I help you?”

“I just came from your room. I’m to measure you.”

“Oh.” My skeleton grew a little lighter. I was finally going to get a uniform. “Right this way, then.”

I led her back to my door, into the tiny space with its sagging bed, the bag of all my possessions, the wooden tub—

I gaped at the new edition, which ate up a full quarter of the room. Water filled it halfway. Water which would have had to be carried up bucket by bucket. And there was a pitcher and basin on my windowsill.

In the space of a day, I went from stolen cold baths in the middle of the night to another servant hauling a tub into my room.

“What on Salm’s green earth?” I whispered, stepping up to the tub’s lip. The water was lukewarm, and next to it sat a little ceramic tray with soap and hair oil on it.

Ursa, what is happening?

“Miss Tallowax?”

“I ... sorry.” I backed away from the tub like it was an apparition only I could see. “That ... that is new.”

The seamstress smiled. “It’s good to be taken care of when you’re so far from the servants’ dormitories. May I?”

She didn’t ask me to undress, merely measured me at my shoulders, bust, and waist, then my height, pursing her lips when she finished.

“I’m sure I have something that will fit. I’ll see to it. Good night, Miss Tallowax.”

I bid her the same, then spent the next five minutes staring at the tub. Smelling the hair oil and soap, wondering if they were poisoned and this was how Whitestone planned to finally off me. But it seemed ... fine. Had the queen realized how mortal I was and decided to minimize my suffering?

Had Prince Renn ordered this?

Well, I was not one to turn away an altar offering, as the saying went.

For the next half hour I sat in the water, not minding the cool temperature in the slightest, taking the time to scrub between my toes and behind my ears, carefully disentangling my unruly locks.

After, while they were still wet, I carefully combed hair oil through them and separated the curls into segments, twisting each around my fingers to shape them.

Taming my hair had always been an arduous process, but I hadn’t had nice hair since I left Fount, so I treated myself.

When I’d finished, I tied up my heavy mane with the hair sash I’d brought from home and gazed out my window until twilight, learning the grounds that I could see from it, for I’d had no time to enjoy the view, then wondered if I could glean a book from Renn’s suite or the library, for I was sure the castle had one.

I would have to ask Lonnie. Then again, I dared not assume today would become routine; it might have been a singular break in an unending line of work, so I determined to cherish it while I could.

My brain and body remembered their task; I woke right at dawn the next day. Finger-combed my hair, brushed my teeth, pulled on my shoes.

When I opened my door, a brown linen package sat in front of it.

Curious, I brought it to the bed, opening it to find two dresses within.

This must have been left by the seamstress.

I’d thought I was getting livery, and still wished I was, but the first dress I pulled out was rather lovely, something any middle-class woman in Rove might don, with loose long sleeves for the summer, laces over the bust, and deep pockets in a simple skirt.

The color of almond flesh, with a round neck simply hemmed.

The second was similar, a cool, pale gray with a little ruffling where the sleeves connected to the bodice.

Beneath the two dresses was a violet cincture for Zia.

Zia, the goddess over women. Not Alm, the god of healing.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. By all means, violet would help me blend in.

But bother me it did. Still, I would not bite the hand that fed me.

I put on the first dress. It fit nearly perfectly.

Better than the ones I already had. While modest, the neckline cut lower than what I usually wore, and the waist cinched in.

The skirt flowed nicely around my legs, perfect for a summer day.

I wished I had a mirror. Grateful, I donned my red sash and made my way to the prince’s suite.

Sten stood just outside the door when I arrived, leaning back against the wall, arms folded, head tipped all the way forward, dozing. I did not sneak up on him; he roused as I approached. Did a double take as though ensuring I was who he thought I was.

“Good morning,” I offered.

He nodded. “He’s not here.”

I paused. “Pardon? Has Whitestone claimed him so early?”

“Doctor arrived from Antsan,” he answered. “And the other healer draftee arrived last night.”

My stomach fell. “For Prince Renn?”

He lifted an eyebrow at the stupid question.

“I see,” I managed, not sure how to process this information. “Am I needed?”

“When he returns, which should be midmorning. Doctors tend to take their time.”

I hadn’t realized the conscription had continued on, despite my appointment. Queen Winvrin claimed I’d done more for her son than twenty years’ worth of healers, but apparently I was not doing enough.

Nodding, I wandered away, a little stupefied, eventually finding my way to the kitchen.

Porridge again, but Lonnie was there and split another pilfered pastry, though it didn’t taste as good as the first. Still, I took my time and asked her about a library—yes, there was one, but no, the servants didn’t have access to it except to clean.

I spent the rest of the morning exploring the castle, sticking mostly to the bailey, learning the shops there, meeting the blacksmith, avoiding the stables.

I looked out an arrow slit into the city, framed on the far edges by sunlit aspens, and wondered if I would finally be able to head home.

I desperately wanted to return, even if I had to walk the whole way on foot, but I hated the feeling of leaving my work unfinished.

Midmorning I returned to the prince’s suite.

Another guard stood outside, one I didn’t recognize.

He started to open the door for me, then must have recognized me, for he let go of the door and stepped back as I neared, unease flitting across his features.

Just as it had with the servants in the kitchens and the groundskeeper outside and the maids in the hall.

Even Ard and Sten had acted oddly. Ignoring him, I opened the door myself.

When I entered, Prince Renn sat in one of his chairs, and the queen occupied his couch—I assumed it was her guard who failed to open the door for me.

Their conversation died as I approached. Like Sten had this morning, Renn seemed to give me a second look, staring at me like I was King Adoel Nicosia himself. Did kempt hair and a nice dress alter me so much?

I recalled Prince Adrinn and his comment about my attractiveness, or lack thereof. Apparently they did.

I curtsied. “Might I speak, Your Majesty?”

She looked me over, head to toe, twice. “So, you did have it in you to be hygienic. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I suddenly doubted the bath had been a gift from the queen. Ignoring her pointless jab, I asked, glancing to the prince, “I heard there was a doctor from Antsan this morning, and that the draft for healers has continued. Are my administrations not sufficient?”

Prince Renn opened his mouth, but his mother spoke before he could.

“I will never stop searching for my son’s cure.

” Her tone was hard, as though I’d insulted her.

“I will rake this country from border to border, even into Sesta and the ends of the eastern continent if I must. You have abated much of his foulness, but if there is better, I will find it. Do not get comfortable, healer.”

I hadn’t been comfortable for the majority of my forced stay, but I didn’t say as much.

Prince Renn added, “They weren’t helpful, so I would appreciate your assistance today.”

The sensation that swirled through me at the news confused me. Disappointment, that I would not be going home. Relief, that I could work a little longer. Relief I would not have felt only a few days ago.

Renn shifted on his seat. “The healers you requested have been summoned.”

The queen made a derisive snort. “As unhelpful as today’s.” She stood and brushed off her skirts. “We’ve lost precious hours, so get back to work immediately.”

Prince Renn pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s not a dog, Mother.”

That gave the queen pause. Only a day and a half ago I’d nearly shouted at the prince that I was treated as less than a dog. I wondered if the comment had stuck with him. Wondered if my illness had made him realize he needed me, and the failure of this new doctor and healer drove that home.

Well, it was about damn time.

The queen sniffed. “Even dogs earn their keep. I will see you at dinner.” Without further comment to me, she strode from the room.

I hesitantly approached the sofa, only sitting when the prince gestured for me to do so. “She talks about you as though you’re not in the room,” I said.

“She’s merely anxious. She means well.” He coughed, but it didn’t produce.

“Does she?”

But he nodded. “My family is all I have. The gods glued them to me at birth, and they have stayed by my side, my mother especially. Even Adrinn still checks up on me.”