Chapter 33 #2
“—and Lowri was sent to get the tincture, but she’s wary of the infirmary, so I volunteered to go in her stead.
” Even as we walk briskly, he angles his face to mine, ensuring that I can easily read his lips.
The action is not lost on me—the small, kind gesture leaves me oddly reassured, almost like I’m in the comfort of my own home.
I stare at his lips, drawn to the soft curve that diminishes the harsh angles of his jawline.
I nod, trying to force rational thought back into my head. I really need to get out of this place. “Why is Lowri wary of the infirmary?”
He shrugs. “That’s none of my business or yours.”
I huff out a breath, and my head continues to throb. As I rub at the spot, I remember Kilkenny’s words and let my hand drop, focusing on keeping up with him instead.
We arrive at the infirmary, and a host of aromas infiltrate my senses as we step into the pristine room.
There are a couple of other healers focused on their own tasks, but a familiar face approaches, a bright smile dominating her dark features.
It’s the healer who’d tended to me when I was held prisoner.
Instinctively, I press my hand against the branding beneath my sleeve.
A month later, it no longer hurts, but I always avoid looking at it, evading the fear that the mere sight of it brings back to the surface.
“Hello again,” she says with a smile. She extends her hand, clasping my forearm in greeting. “Alys,” she says, reminding me of her name.
“Durvla,” I say, giving her forearm a squeeze before letting go and stepping back. “Thank you again.”
“No thanks needed at all, sweetling.” Her gaze briefly roams my face before she turns back to Kilkenny. “Let me guess, you’re here for a tincture for Carys.”
He nods. “Also, Garrick is too stubborn or foolish to admit it, but she’s been enduring headaches. Will the same tincture work for her?”
I bristle, narrowing my eyes at him. Too stubborn or foolish? I turn to Alys just as she shakes her head disapprovingly at Kilkenny, but he doesn’t falter.
Alys turns a concerned face to me again. “Do you have a headache right now?”
“Yes, but it’s manageable.” Headaches are a part of my existence more often than not. I’m so used to it, I’m more likely to notice when it’s absent.
Alys lays a hand gently on my shoulder for a few seconds before heading to her workstation.
There are assorted containers of colorful liquids and powders in racks against the walls and lining the counters.
Dried herbs and flowers hang from iron brackets anchored to the walls, and rows of clean linen are neatly arranged on wooden shelving.
I barely have the chance to blink before Alys returns with two tiny amber glass vials. She hands one to Kilkenny and one to me. “One gulp,” she says, her steady gaze on mine. “It won’t taste pleasant, but it’ll do the trick.”
The vial in the palm of my hand feels strangely illicit.
I’ve never had anything to help with the pain before—most medicinal herbs are dispatched to Mainland, and there are others in my village, particularly the elderly, who need what’s left of our stock far more than I do.
I force my lips into a smile as I face Alys again. “Thank you.”
As we head back toward the sleeping quarters, Kilkenny glances at me every now and then, lost in thought about something.
“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping in preparation for tonight?” I ask to redirect his mind.
He waves his hand dismissively.
“Do you ever sleep?”
His expression is sharp enough to cut metal. “Of course I sleep.”
It seems whenever he’s not on duty guarding Carys, he’s still on duty.
“You care about her a lot, don’t you?”
More cold glares from Kilkenny. “The princess requires a lot of care.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” I mumble.
He slows down. “I know what you’re asking, but the answer remains the same.”
You’re impossible. I stop in the middle of the corridor, second guessing my directions. I should get breakfast and get ready for whatever is thrown at me before the Feast. I voice my thoughts aloud to Kilkenny and he nods in agreement.
“I’ll head to bed, then,” he says, starting to walk backward away from me. “Don’t let that tincture go to waste. It’s not the time to be a martyr. You need to be at your best for tonight.”
I slide my thumb over the small cork of the vial as I watch his retreating back. A tincture to cure my headache. Unbelievable … Taking deep breath, uncork the vial. One gulp, Alys had said.
It’s still enough to make me nearly gag as the bitterness hits my tongue.
Water. I need water. I’ve never made it to the kitchen so quickly. Eefa swivels in my direction as I rush in.
“Good morning,” she says, a smile on her face. “Eggs?”
“Water, please.” The bitterness remains on my tongue, but sure enough, my headache is already starting to fade. I stand perfectly still, trying to figure out if this is a figment of my imagination—if it’s that simple to alleviate something that has left me in tears so often.
A cup of water appears in my line of vision, and I startle.
“Are you alright?” Eefa asks, cocking her head at me.
“Yes. Thank you.” The water washes the bitterness away and I hand the cup back to Eefa. The headache is more of a background nuisance than an overwhelming pain. I have a suspicion it’ll be completely gone soon.
“Are you ready for the Feast?” Eefa asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be. What about you?”
“Oh, I’ll be working. All hands on deck in the kitchen tonight.” She appears unbothered about it, pleased in fact. But then she adds, “I’m looking forward to it. It’s wildly more exciting than the norm.” Her smile certainly verifies her words. “So, about those eggs?”
“Yes, please.”
“Bacon? Bread?”
“Sounds heavenly.” Who knows when I’ll get bacon next.
She winks and disappears behind a set of doors.
A while later, I’m savoring one of my last breakfasts in the palace when I sense an approaching presence.
I raise my head as Carys lumbers into the room with Callum at her side.
One of the other kitchen servants drops into a deep curtsy, then hurries off to the kitchen.
Carys stares me down, fiddling with the amulet against her chest as she plops gracelessly into the seat across from me. “You look way too chipper,” she says.
“Me?”
“You just cannot wait to leave me, can you?”
My spine stiffens. There’s no humor in her eyes. Instead, there’s a hint of genuine hurt and annoyance.
“It’s not that …”
“Then what is it? The palace isn’t large enough for you? The food not good enough? Your bedchamber not to your liking?”
“No …”
“Then what is it?” The demand is clear on her face.
“I miss my family,” I blurt.
She slumps in her chair, her focus zeroed in on my face. A moment passes between us, and she slowly says, “Your family is dead.”
It might as well be a physical slap. I dig my teeth into my lower lip and breathe out slowly. “My best friend and his family. We’ve been close since childhood.” He’s the only one who knows all my secrets.
She huffs out a breath and drops her face into her open hands. A servant appears with a tray of food—an even grander spread than my own. Carys lifts her head and stares at the food, not even acknowledging the servant who stands by, waiting for some sort of validation.
Carys lifts a slice of bacon. It’s dark around the edges and stands upright in front of her face.
She scrutinizes it in simmering silence before dropping onto the plate, disgust on her face.
“Get me one that doesn’t look like it caught fire,” she demands.
“In fact, take the whole thing away.” She flicks her fingers toward the plate as if shooing it away.
Everything about her is off today. She’s a cornered animal, wounded and more than willing to lash out at anyone. Once the servant is gone, I eat my own bacon slice to keep myself from speaking out of turn. Carys pinches the bridge of her freckled nose and closes her eyes.
“Do you want to talk?” I ask.
Her amber gaze flicks to mine and I bristle. “Nothing to talk about,” she says. “No point. You’re leaving tomorrow, right? No need to pretend that we’re friends.”
Ouch. “I’d like to think that we are … Just because I’m going back to Cluain Baile doesn’t mean that our friendship has to end.” What am I talking about? “I will be eternally grateful for the opportunity you gave me. For saving my life, really.”
She laughs without humor. “Saved your life … No, Durvla, I saved my own arse.” She heaves a sigh of epic proportions. “I’m going to miss you and your daydreaming.”
My lips curve up hesitantly. “I’ll miss you, too.” The truth of it takes me by surprise. Maybe in another circumstance, we really could be friends.
“When I get married,” she says. “Will you make my dress?”
The question catches me off guard and I burst into laughter. I nod. “Yes,” I say. “Maybe give me more than one month next time?”
She chuckles. “We’ll see.”