14. Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
T he remainder of the dinner is uneventful, and by the time Arbois leaves my dining area, I’m no closer to figuring out what it is he wants here in Cedelia. It’s a bit disheartening—until I figure it out, there’s no way to get rid of him without angering Father, the Council, Arbois himself, and likely the entire government of Jirena Sadai in the process.
Of course, two heads are better than one, so the next morning I find Samis, hoping he can give me some insight into how to resolve the situation. I manage to catch him in his study after breakfast and tell him all about my dinner with Arbois and the conversation I overheard yesterday.
When I finish, Samis leans back in his chair, deep in thought. “That is interesting,” he says slowly. “You’re right about one thing, by the way—Arbois’s steward does have a pretty deep voice. He certainly could be the other person you heard.”
Well, that’s one mystery solved . “Do you have any idea why Arbois is so intent on marrying me, though? Or who would want to stop him?”
“No idea. Like you said, I can’t imagine he’d be here without his sister’s express approval. Perhaps he meant the ambassador? But I can’t imagine why she’d want to stop you two from getting married, or what she could do to him if she really is against it.”
We’re both quiet for a few moments, pondering the puzzle that is Arbois.
“What about you?” I finally ask. “Have you gotten anything out of him?”
He shakes his head. “No, and I doubt I’m likely to get him alone anytime soon. I’ve tried, but it seems he spends most of his time in the negotiations for the marriage treaty—when he’s not with you, that is. Although…”
I wait for him to continue, but he just sits there silently, staring off into space. “Although what?”
He thinks for a moment longer, then says, “Father and I are supposed to have dinner with him and some of the council tonight. I’ll see to it that I’m seated next to Arbois. Maybe I can corner him and get him to say something that we can use.” He shrugs. “It's better than nothing, right?”
“That sounds like a plan.” I mean, not a particularly good plan, but it’s not like I have anything better at the moment. “Do you want me to come too?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I think it would be better if it was just me. Maybe I’ll have better luck on my own. If it doesn’t work, then next time we can try to take him on together.” He stands up and comes around to this side of the table, standing next to me and patting my shoulder gently. “Don’t worry, Darien. You may not believe it, but time is on our side right now.”
I try to keep Samis’s words in mind to calm myself down as I go about the rest of my day. ‘ You may not believe it, but time is on our side right now .’ He’s definitely right about the first part; I can only hope he’s right about the second part, too. It would be easier if I was involved in the actual negotiations, but as far as I know, only Father and Arbois himself, and perhaps Kerion, are present for those. I’m not sure if the limited attendance is at Father’s request or Arbois’s, but either way, the result is the same.
To be honest, it’s not a surprise that I’m not involved in the negotiations. Normally, both sides send a representative in their place, for the early stages at least. Which is why it’s surprising that Arbois is already here—he could have had the Jirenian ambassador, or perhaps an advisor to his sister, come in his place. Maybe he has a strong opinion about the amount of my dowry, or his future title, or how much aid Jirena Sadai will be required to give Soeria if we’re attacked. But if Samis’s hunch is right—and I have no reason to doubt it is—then he’s here for some other reason entirely. The sooner we find out what it is, the sooner I can get rid of Arbois and go back to being with Tag.
Unfortunately, when I see Samis the day after his dinner with Arbois, it seems he didn’t have any better luck than I did. “I barely even got a chance to talk to him,” he says, with a heavy sigh. “And when I did get a chance, I couldn’t get a single useful word out of him. Oh, he was happy to chat about Segaron, or how much he enjoys Cedelia at this time of year, but as soon as we even approached talking about why he’s here, it was like talking to a wall. A polite wall, to be sure, but a wall nonetheless.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” At least it’s not just me . “Why didn’t you get much a chance to talk to him? I thought you were going to finagle it so you were sitting next to him.”
“I did. But Rolsteg was on his other side, and she kept peppering him with questions about Jirena Sadai the whole night. I swear I’ve never seen her so animated before. It was strange.” He shakes his head. “But what’s done is done. There will be more dinners. Maybe I’ll invite him to dine with me and Kenessa sometime, just the three of us. Unless you have a better idea?”
I ponder the problem for a moment. “You know,” I say slowly, “if there’s anyone who knows what Arbois wants besides Arbois himself, it’s Father, right? He spends more time with Arbois than the rest of us combined. Plus, maybe Arbois gave something away during the negotiations that will reveal why he’s here. I could ask him if he has any insight.”
Samis raises his eyebrows. “I thought the whole point of this was to get rid of Arbois without Father finding out?”
“I mean, I’m not just going to march in there and tell him everything. I can be subtle when I want to, you know.”
“It’s your funeral, I suppose. But you’ll have to wait—Father’s leaving to visit Fort Alesen for a few days with Belling, Rolsteg, and a few others. Apparently, he’s really got a bee in his bonnet about this whole thing with Uncle Zeikas and the Khorians, and he wants to make sure our defenses are in good shape.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” I suppose it makes sense that he’d go to Fort Alesen if he really is worried about Cedelia’s defenses; it’s the closest major garrison outside of the one in the city itself. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
Samis shrugs. “Three or four days from now, maybe. I’m actually supposed to join him there tomorrow—if you like, I can send you a message when we return.”
I suppose that’s the best I can hope for, so I tell Samis that’s fine, then take my leave, trying to convince myself that it’s not already too late.
Three days later, I'm reviewing petitions in my chambers when I receive a message from Samis, letting me know that he and Father have returned to the palace. I debate whether to go talk to Father right now, but it doesn’t take me long to decide I’ll have better luck if I wait until he’s had a chance to rest. Besides, if I show up in his study so soon after he returned and start asking questions, he might wonder why I’m asking.
So, I wait until the next morning, anticipation slowly building, and by the time I knock on the door to Father’s chambers, I’m already starting to sweat. You can do this, Darien . All you have to do is talk to him without giving away too much . It won’t be nearly as daunting as it sounds .
I’m so wound up that I almost jump when the door opens, revealing Father’s steward, Ebira, a short, gray-haired woman who’s been giving me the same steely gaze for as long as I can remember. “May I help you, Your Royal Highness?” she asks, her voice high and clear.
I swallow, hoping she doesn’t notice how nervous I am. “I was hoping to speak to Father, if he’s not too busy.”
“Of course, Your Royal Highness,” she says with a slight bow. When she looks back up at me, there’s an expression on her face that I don’t often see—one of uncertainty, underlaid by worry. “Unfortunately, His Majesty was taken to the infirmary last night, and as far as I know, he is still there.”
I stare at her for a second or two. I don’t know what I was expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “What happened?” I finally ask. “Is he sick?”
“His Majesty was not feeling well last night. I believe he only had minor complaints at first, but his condition worsened over the course of the night, and Her Majesty insisted that he be taken to the infirmary around midnight.”
Unease starts to bubble up in the back of my mind, and I do my best to push it down . I know Father wouldn’t have gone to the infirmary unless his symptoms were serious. Although we don’t always get along, I’d still be upset if something bad were to happen to him. Plus, for all his faults as a father, he’s a good king, and the last thing Soeria needs right now is instability. Maybe he just ate something that didn’t agree with him.
“Thank you for updating me, Ebira. I’m going to go see how he’s doing.”
She bows deeply, but I barely notice it as I turn to go.
After a few minutes of walking, distracted by increasingly apprehensive thoughts, I reach the infirmary, a relatively large room with beds spaced around three walls. Bright sunlight streams in through large windows on the fourth wall. Healers dressed in white robes sit beside occupied beds, tending the sick as best they can. There seems to be more patients here than usual, but I don’t even bother looking to see if Father is in any of the beds. Instead, I walk straight through the room, to a small door set in the far wall. Beyond this door is a smaller, more private area; it’s where Father will be.
As I expected, Father is lying on a bed in the back room. Mother sits at his side and a healer stands next to him. Father’s eyes are closed, and I can tell just by looking at him that he’s ill. There are dark circles under his eyes that aren’t usually there, and his skin looks waxy and pale. But his chest rises and falls evenly, and he seems to be resting peacefully, so maybe it’s not too bad. Hopefully Mother or the healer can give me some good news .
Mother’s facing away from me, so she doesn’t see me immediately when I walk in. I quietly walk up to her.
“How is he? What happened?” My voice is quiet, but she still jumps at the unexpected sound.
When she turns to me, her face is resolute. “He seemed fine when he got back from Fort Alesen, but after dinner last night, he told me his stomach was bothering him.” Her voice is as quiet as mine, but there’s more than a hint of worry in it. “I thought it might have been something he had eaten, but he said he’d been feeling a bit off since earlier. A few hours later he started vomiting, and I insisted he come down here.” She nods to the healer. “Arille gave him an infusion of ginger and some sleeping herbs, and the vomiting stopped. He’s been asleep since then.”
I nod my thanks to Mother before turning to Arille. “What do you think it is?”
She hesitates before answering, and my stomach drops a bit. “As I told Her Majesty, I’m not quite certain. But I do have a theory.”
“Well?” I ask, trying to keep the impatience I’m starting to feel out of my voice. “What is it?”
Arille sighs. “I will tell you, Your Royal Highness, but first I must warn you that this is only a theory, and that until we have further information, there’s no reason to jump to conclusions.”
I nod impatiently and motion for her to continue.
“I believe His Majesty may have wasting fever. There has been a minor outbreak in the city recently, and we’ve even had a few cases in the palace itself. So far, His Majesty’s symptoms are consistent with what we would expect, and it’s certainly possible that His Majesty caught the disease from someone in the palace. If that is the case, there isn’t very much we can do, other than wait and make His Majesty as comfortable as we can.”
I had hoped I might get some good news before the end of the day, but contrary to Arille’s prediction, Father’s condition hasn’t improved by the time I go to bed. When I go to the infirmary first thing the following morning, he looks even worse. Yesterday, he looked somewhat normal—it was obvious he was sick, to be sure, but it wasn’t this bad. Today, his face is yellow and sagging, and he wheezes with every inhalation.
Seeing him like this rattles me to my core. I always knew Father was just as susceptible to illness as the rest of us are, but I don’t know if I ever truly believed it. I’m sure he’ll be fine , I reassure myself. Arille said he’d be alright . My thoughts sound hollow, even to me.
Today, instead of Arille, there’s a healer I don’t recognize in the room. Mother is still sitting by his bedside in the same chair as she was yesterday, as though she hasn’t moved. It’s entirely possible—she looks haggard, and I doubt she slept at all last night. When I tell her I’ll sit and watch Father for a few hours so she can get some sleep, she only argues a little before giving in. Then it’s just me, Father, and the healer in the chamber.
Once she’s gone, the room is silent except for Father’s wheezing breaths. For the most part, he’s still, as though he’s sleeping normally. But occasionally he’ll stir and mutter something that doesn’t make any sense. The first few times this happens, I try to puzzle out what he’s saying, but it eventually becomes clear that it’s just nonsense, a product of delirium. Every so often, Arille leaves, and another healer takes her place, but I don’t really feel like introducing myself to the others right now.
The rest of the time, while Father sleeps and the healers silently keep watch, I’m left alone with my thoughts. Unlike the infirmary—which, apart from Father’s wheezing breaths, is silent and outwardly calm—my mind is roiling with negative emotions like a stormy sea. There’s shock— how could this have happened so quickly, when he was fine just a few days ago? —and fear for what this means for my family and Soeria if Father doesn’t recover.
What I don’t feel is grief, and that makes me feel even worse. It’s almost like a symbol is lying in the bed in front of me instead of my own flesh and blood. Maybe it makes sense, in a strange way, since Father has always put Soeria ahead of me—ahead of everyone, including the rest of his family, including himself. I should feel some sort of anguish or despair or heartache, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t summon them.
I sit here for what feels like hours, losing track of time, slowly growing more and more consumed by my thoughts, until Mother eventually returns. The bags under her eyes have lessened now, but she moves slowly, her arms hanging limply at her sides as she walks. Emma follows behind her, looking much the same.
Neither of them seem interested in talking, so we sit in silence. Every so often, whichever healer is on duty examines Father, looking progressively grimmer each time they do. Father doesn’t seem to be getting any better, and my mood gets worse and worse as the day goes on. After the sun sets, a servant brings me, Emma, and Mother dinner, and we eat in silence, too. The food tastes like ashes.
Eventually, long after the sun has set, Mother insists Emma and I get some sleep. I don’t have the energy to fight her. I return to my rooms and barely manage to undress before I collapse on the bed.
When I wake, my eyes gritty with sleep, it feels like almost no time has passed. For a bleary moment, I wonder if it’s morning, but there’s no light streaming in through the curtains on the windows, so it must still be night.
In my fatigued state, it takes me a moment to realize there are voices outside my door. I can’t tell what they’re saying, and I’m almost too tired to care. But one of the voices sounds insistent, so it must be important. I get up with a sigh. I feel wearier than I ever have in my entire life; it takes far more effort than it should just to get up and walk to my bedroom door.
When I open it, I see Joram talking to someone, but he’s blocking whoever it is from my sight. “—needs to sleep, Your Royal Highness,” he says quietly. “Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.”
Your Royal Highness—well, that certainly narrows it down .
A tingling sensation starts at my toes and works its way up my body as I step forward and see Kenessa. Her brows are drawn down in anger, but the way the corners of her mouth quiver just a bit betrays her fear. A prickle of raw dread runs through my mind.
“Thank you, Joram,” I say, “but it’s too late. I’m already awake.” I turn to Kenessa. This close, I can see tears running down her cheeks. “What’s wrong? Is it Father?” I swallow. “Is he…?”
She shakes her head, and I feel relief for the briefest of moments before I realize that there must be some other reason why she’s here in the middle of the night. She opens her mouth, but no words come out. “Breathe, Kenessa,” I say quietly. She does as I ask, inhaling and exhaling slowly. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Her eyes lock on mine. I see alarm in her gaze as clear as day; just seeing it makes my heart plummet down to my toes.
“It’s Samis,” she says, her voice uneven. “He’s sick, too.”