Chapter fourteen #2
So I had gone to bed in the room I shared with two other servants and waited for the castle to settle.
Once my room companions were sound asleep and the noise of the castle had quieted, I went outside and made my way around the castle wall until I could look up and see the balcony that belonged to the king and queen.
The height looked similar to the interior walls of my tower that I had climbed so many times, and I was confident I could do it easily.
Well, my head was confident. My body was not.
After I’d tucked my skirt tightly into my waistband, my hands reached up and firmly gripped around stones while my right foot wedged into a crevice.
I was ready to climb, but a wave of fear rose up, sudden and furious, stealing my breath and making me second-guess this grand plan of mine.
But I was determined. The king was going to die otherwise.
The healers had done all they could. He’d been given every available draught, herb, and treatment, but it wasn’t enough.
So I shut my eyes, forced myself to breathe, and centered myself.
Then I fixed my eyes on the wall, adjusted my grip on the stones, and pulled myself up.
I moved slowly and deliberately, foot over foot, hand over hand.
It didn’t take long to reach the balcony, but my neck was slick with sweat from nerves and exertion.
As I pulled myself over the railing, the clouds shifted and my dress caught the moonlight, increasing my anxiety, but I quickly stepped into the shadows and caught my breath.
I waited, but there were no sounds of anyone else, no alarms raised.
A huge sigh of relief escaped me, and I allowed myself a grin. I’d made it.
Then I wondered if I would need to inform the guards or Tavric or someone else about how easily someone could reach the king this way.
Perhaps after I’d healed him, I could suggest they place a guard below his balcony, but for now I shoved that thought aside and went to carefully push open the balcony doors.
The queen was asleep in a chair on the opposite side of the bed where the king lay, breathing labored and skin pale.
I crossed quickly and soundlessly to the side of the bed, crouched down, and laid my hand on his chest. Then I closed my eyes and hummed softly, just enough to activate my gift, to feel the heat building up in my hand.
It was strange to wield my magic this way, and yet it felt more instinctual than all the times I’d channeled my magic through my hair.
I didn’t push hard. I didn’t concentrate on one part of his body.
I just let a thin stream of magic flow from me and into him, trying to reach every corner of his form, easing pain, pulling out infection, reducing swelling.
A little of everything, just enough that he might have a chance at gaining some strength, but not so much that my strength would be too depleted.
That was the most precarious part. If I used too much magic, I’d be too weak to climb back down.
I longed to do more, to end his suffering in one fell swoop, but I didn’t.
After only a short time, I pulled back and crept out onto the balcony, then took several deep breaths to be sure I wasn’t too tired, climbed over the railing, and descended once again to the ground.
My arms were shaking by the time I reached the bottom, and I took several moments to rest before returning to my room.
I’d be sure to come back again tomorrow night, and the night after. The work was incomplete, but perhaps over the next week or ten days, I could bring him to full health.
TAVRIC
After failing to make things right with Lyri yesterday, I had slumped back to my library and spent the rest of the day there.
I was supposed to be preparing for Princess Saria’s arrival, but every time I thought of welcoming her into my home, I wanted to crawl out of my skin.
It felt wrong, and I knew that had everything to do with my feelings for Lyri.
The next morning, I allowed the most important matters to be brought to me during my morning audience, which I continued to hold in the dining hall, uncomfortable with the idea of holding it in my father’s study the way he always had.
It would feel too much like I was replacing him, like I was surrendering to his death. Accepting it.
In the afternoon, I was deeply entrenched in my corner of the library, with nothing to show for it, when my mother burst in, looking harried and hopeful and terrified all at once.
“What’s wrong?”
“Caelmir.”
I shot to my feet, leaning on the desk and holding my breath.
“His ship has just docked.”
I didn’t wait for her, I just went. I ran and didn’t stop until I skidded to a halt on the dock, where crew members were throwing lines to dock workers as they secured the ship.
My lungs heaved as I scanned the deck, searching for my brother, knowing that one look at his face would tell me everything I needed to know.
And then I spotted him. He stood with his forearms tensed as he gripped the railing, his body in a would-be casual stance, but his eyes said it all. He was devastated.
I staggered back a step and then sat down there in the middle of the dock as a cold wave of nothingness washed over me.
Lack of hope is a powerful thing.
It sucks you dry, bleeding you until you’re pale and withered. Nothing seems worth doing or saying and yet the world keeps moving ceaselessly around you, determined to remind you that the thing you care about most can disappear.
All three of my brothers sat with me in the dining hall after everyone else had left that evening, but there wasn’t much we could do to comfort one another. “Is Mama still in with Papa?” I asked.
Dorian nodded. “I doubt she’ll leave his side.”
“Too afraid she’ll miss the end,” Caelmir commented, his tone devoid of inflection and his face drawn.
He was wrecked, a shell of the vibrant man he’d been when he left.
He blamed himself for his failure, and though I knew the failure didn’t lie with him simply because there was no solution to be found, it was difficult not to blame him too—because I wanted to blame someone.
I wanted a direction in which to point my anger.
Instead, I buried it with everything else that threatened to overwhelm me. “Father has been improving the last few days. Maybe—”
“Don’t do that, Tav.” Kavian cut me off, his voice tired and impatient.
“We’re all familiar with the ups and downs, but there’s no denying the steep decline he’s been in for the past six weeks.
And he hasn’t been improving. He simply hasn’t been getting worse.
We have to stop fooling ourselves. The kingdom is relying on this family to keep moving forward. ”
“We are moving forward,” I said.
“Are you?” he challenged, his eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep. “Because it looks to me like you’re trying to pretend this isn’t happening. It looks like you’re doing the bare minimum instead of stepping up and doing what needs to be done.”
His accusation cut deeply, scraping at my guilt and stabbing at my inadequacies. “It’s not that easy. It’s too much for one person.”
Kavian spread his arms wide. “Well, lucky for you, there is an accomplished, beautiful woman on her way to our shores who has been raised to be a queen. Not only will choosing a wife help relieve the burden of rule, but it will also reassure the entire kingdom that you have a woman beside you to ensure the line of succession.”
“I—” I wanted to refute it, to give some grand reason why his suggestion was unreasonable, but if I couldn’t have Lyri, did it matter who I married?
Kavian raised a brow in surprise when I said no more. “No retort?”
My face ached from the tension in it, but he was right. I had no retort.
Grief sucked at my insides, but my anger was pushing in as well.
I wanted to rage at the unfairness of my position and scream at my brothers that if they thought it was so easy, they were welcome to it.
But it wouldn’t do any good. I’d been born to this, and though Lyri had given me a glimpse of hope that I could be something other than a servant to my country, my brothers were right.
My father was dying.
The kingdom was looking to me.
And a suitable queen would arrive on the morrow.