The girl’s wild black curls bounced up and down as she nodded. “They’ll never find me in here.” She dusted off her dress, smearing the dirt in even more, and skipped over.
Watching the girl as carefully as she watched me, I handed Yesilia another bowl.
“Perhaps you should have stolen an apron before escaping,” Yesilia said, raising an eyebrow.
The girl shrugged and laced her small hand into Yesilia’s. “I wanted to see the Hálendian.” She smiled brilliantly at me. “I’m Marietta,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, holding her hand out to me.
I wiped my hand on a mostly clean towel and reached over the tub of water to take her hand. “I’m the Hálendian.”
“Such trouble.” Yesilia clicked her tongue at me. “Marietta, this is Aleinn, and you will address her properly.”
Marietta rocked forward onto her toes, staring unabashedly at my hair. “Yes, Grandmother.”
Wait. Grandmother? This must be one of Enzo’s sisters, then.
“Why did you run from your nurse, little one?” Yesilia asked as she flicked a curl from the girl’s face. It bounced right back, and Marietta blew at it.
“All anyone can talk about is the ball. It’s boring. I never get to go, and I never get to eat anything—except what I snatch from the kitchens.”
“Ball?” I said, water dripping down my elbow. “You’re having a ball even though…” I wasn’t sure I should discuss a war with Enzo’s little sister.
Marietta shrugged and plopped down on the floor next to Yesilia. “Mother says it’s not polite to invite yourself into other people’s homes, and Chiara says the nobles want to throw their daughters at Enzo. He’s strong, but I don’t know how he’ll catch them all.” Her face twisted like she was thinking it through, then she shrugged.
My brush slipped off the edge of a bowl and plunked into the wash pail, splashing me with dirty water. I sputtered and wiped it off. Enzo had told me he needed a betrothal in place. I just didn’t expect to feel…upset…about his moving on. But that was before Enzo was also Teren.
The door opened, and a girl nearly the same age as me bustled in, a whirl of swishing skirts with the scent of lilacs wafting in with her.
“Grandmother, have you seen— Oh!” The girl stopped short when she saw me. She was graceful and beautiful, with classic features, olive skin, and wavy deep-brown hair. “I apologize for bursting in. I—” She saw Marietta hiding behind Yesilia. “Mari, your nurse has been looking everywhere for you!”
And then the queen herself swept in. And I was up to my elbows in bubbles.
“Chiara, did you find— Ah, good morning, Yesilia. Marietta,” she said in a tone that meant a lecture was coming. “You must stop hiding from everyone.”
Marietta widened her stance with one hand on her hip. “I’m not hiding from everyone. Just from people I don’t want to find me.”
A laugh bubbled up my throat that I quickly changed into a cough.
Queen Cora’s lips pursed at her daughter, but her eyes twinkled. “Come along, Mari.”
Chiara held out her hand to her sister. “Come on, you can practice drawing with me.” Her staring at me was more subtle than Marietta’s, but it was still there.
Mari’s eyes lit up. “With the black stuff?”
Queen Cora finally let a laugh escape. “Just make sure you change into your oldest apron first. Your maid almost quit when she saw your dress the last time you played with charcoal.”
My chest ached—not from the stitches or the wolves or from scrubbing pots. They were so easy with each other.
“It may be too late to make much of a difference,” Yesilia said, and nudged my elbow so I’d continue washing.
Queen Cora let out a heavy sigh. “Come, Mari, come.” She crossed to her mother-in-law, giving her a tight hug. “It was nice to see you, Yesilia. Aleinn…” She nodded to me, and my broken heart thumped hard once.
All three of them left, and the room was somehow darker than before, though the same amount of sunlight was streaming in. I wiped my nose on the back of my arm and scrubbed harder at a particularly stubborn spot.
Yesilia put her hand on my shoulder, and I wiped at my nose again. “What is it?”
I patted my forehead with my other sleeve and sat back. “I miss my family,” I said quietly, staring at the door they’d gone through. “Do you have any jars on the shelf that can cure that kind of pain?”
Though I was taller, she put both her hands on my cheeks so she could look me right in my eyes. “There isn’t a jar, but I do have something that helps.” Then she wrapped her thin and surprisingly strong arms around me. I tucked my head into her shoulder and held on.
* * *
As I ticked down the hours left in the day, Enzo’s sisters and mother weren’t my only visitors. While I was cleaning off the shelf that held all of Yesilia’s remedies, various men and women stopped by, purportedly for one ailment or another. The advisor I’d seen in the throne room—still wearing the purple robe—stepped inside but didn’t bother to approach the healer, didn’t fabricate some excuse. He just watched as I put back all of her jars exactly to her specifications; then he slipped out when I didn’t acknowledge him or drop anything under his scrutiny.
There were others, people who truly sought Yesilia’s care. They ignored me, and I watched as the king’s mother expertly applied her knowledge of herbs and medicine.
By the time the evening meal was brought in for us, I could barely keep from falling asleep in my soup. After I’d finished, Yesilia showed me to my bed and checked my stitches and the wolf scratches. She put a cup with a warm blend of herbs in my hand. As I drank, her eyebrows scrunched and she poked me.
“Ow,” I mumbled sleepily, and set the cup on a small, spindly table nearby. “What is it?” I took a peek at my stomach. It looked almost back to normal, so I wasn’t sure what she was worried about.
“Nothing,” she said, and shook her head. “Rest. You’ve earned it.”
* * *
I’d meant to stay awake, to sneak out of the healer’s chambers and find the library. But the sky was starting to ease out of night when I woke up, throat dry. Yesilia had refilled my cup, and I drank every last drop.
My other clothes—my uniform and Irena’s skirt, sweater, nightclothes, and blouse—were folded neatly on the empty bed next to mine. Irena’s bag leaned against the pile. I pulled the trousers from my uniform but left on my yellow blouse. It was too hot here for high collars, and I didn’t want to be too Hálendian. I switched Ren’s book from my skirt to my trousers. There wouldn’t be time to wander the halls looking for the library, but I was sure I could find somewhere to practice, to clear my head so I could think. Yesilia hadn’t told me not to leave, and I needed to see something other than these four walls.
Yesilia’s door was cracked open, so I tiptoed over to it, reached my hand in, and lifted my sword off the hook on the wall. I belted it around me, breathing a sigh of relief when the ring was tied to one of the strips around the hilt. Wearing them both calmed the anxiety tickling my insides. The door out into the hall squeaked a little, but the guard stayed fast asleep.
It took a few tries to get out of the palace, but eventually I found a door leading to the crisp morning air. I tilted my face to the sky and breathed deep the scent of a sleeping world.
I jogged around the perimeter of the palace to warm up. A large grassy field surrounded the main palace, with stone buildings and flowering gardens spread throughout. I could just make out the wall—thick and imposing—beyond the farthest buildings. The ground dropped away on its other side, and the only entrances were two ramps that led from the city up to the royal compound. The back side of the palace was also protected by the wall, but the land dropped off so steeply that there could be no way in or out.
I crossed the grounds to a barnlike structure near the bar
racks. It had to be the practice grounds. I slipped inside the building, and the smell of dust and wood and sweat hit me hard. Master Hafa’s domain. One he’d never rule again. I bowed my head and touched my fist to my shoulder before stepping into the center of the ring.
It was still too early for even dim gray light to filter through the dingy windows, but I didn’t need light to stretch and spar. I knew the moves with my eyes closed.
I unsheathed my sword, relishing the feel of the worn leather hilt in my hand again, and started on basic attack positions, moving against the ghosts of my past. Yesilia had sewn me up better than I thought possible—it didn’t even pull where she’d stitched. My mind filtered through everything I’d been through the past month, and I let it all flow out of my body through my sword.
I was swinging and turning, moving to the steps of my favorite dance, when my sword connected with something solid. A loud clang resonated throughout the barn. I jumped back, sword ready. When I saw it was Enzo, alone, I stumbled and tripped, falling into the dust.
“Hello.” Prince Enzo sheathed his sword with a wide smile. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered.” He held his hand out to help me up.
Of course it would be him here, now that I was out of breath and covered in dirt. With a glance at the gold cuff on his arm, I wiped my hand on my trousers and let him pull me off the ground.
“I could have hurt you.” I sheathed my sword and tugged on my braid, unsure of what else to say. This was the first time he had approached me after two days of silence. After I’d admitted I’d lied to him.
“You should be practicing with a wooden sword.” He raised his brows and leaned toward me ever so slightly. I had to look up to meet his green eyes.
“I…I didn’t know where they were.” I dragged my eyes away from him and stepped back. “Isn’t it a little early for you to practice? And without Luc?” I winced at my attempt at small talk.
He went to a closet in a dark corner I hadn’t noticed before and returned with two wooden swords. He tossed one to me.
He frowned and swung the sword through the air a few times. “I needed to work out some energy before meetings start for the day. Luc is probably still asleep. Or getting really mad that I’m not in my chambers.” He gave me a half smile and scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. “I…I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you who I was.”
“I understand why you couldn’t.” Better than he could imagine. We had both kept secrets. I tapped the practice sword against my leg. “I was waiting to tell my secrets to someone more important than a mere guard.” I smirked at him.
“Ha!” He lifted his sword. “Go easy on this ‘mere guard,’ then.”
I laughed. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Your Highness?” I pushed out the title awkwardly.
“Please, just call me Enzo. You did, after all, spend the night in my bed.”
He laughed as my cheeks blazed red.
“You mean you spent the night in my bed.” I lunged at him, but he dodged my first move. I stepped to the side, circling him, confident in my skills. There were many things I wasn’t good at, but I knew how to fight.
We parried and attacked and defended, each of us controlling our responses, holding back a little, testing weaknesses and strengths. The way he moved, the sequence of his swings, reminded me of Ren. I stumbled at that thought, but Enzo didn’t take advantage of my misstep. Ren had said my betrothed was boring and pompous. Knowing my brother like I did, I could see why he thought that—Enzo had enough confidence to rival his. A flash of longing caught me off guard. If only things had been different.
Enzo stepped back a few paces and pulled up the bottom of his once-crisp shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. My gaze caught on his strip of exposed stomach.
I ducked my head, pretending to dust off my trousers, before he could catch me staring. We were evenly matched—with his strength and longer reach to my speed and experience—but I didn’t have the endurance I’d had before the Wild.
“You know,” I said, panting. “If you weren’t holding back, you would have won the bout already.”
“I thought the point was to get you back in shape, not beat you.” He leaned over and rested his hands on his knees.
I laughed a little. “In that case, I think I’m done for today.” It was almost dawn, and I needed to return to Yesilia’s before that lazy guard woke up. I handed him my wooden sword, hilt first.
He straightened and took it, then stepped into my path, stopping me short. I caught a whiff of sweat and dirt, and something purely him. “How did you become like this? So focused with a sword?”
I debated for a moment. Our wedding date might have been set by now if it weren’t for the mage. Maybe it was because I knew he didn’t like Jennesara, but I found I wanted to tell him. I wanted him to know a little of who I was, and even why.
“My mother died when I was young.” I started stretching out my arms, an excuse to do something with my hands. “My father was busy with his responsibilities, and I was left mostly on my own.” Enzo’s head tilted with sympathy, but I didn’t want his pity. “I did have an older brother, though. He taught me everything he was learning so we could spar together. We would sneak to our own hidden spot and practice. When my brother’s teacher heard about it, he invited me to learn from him as well.” I smiled at the memory and watched the golden dust floating through the musty barn.
“By the time my father caught wind of it, I could already beat half of his guard, so we—my brother and I—talked him into letting me continue.”
“His guard?”
I tensed at the mistake and thought furiously for some way out. “My father was in charge of some of the troops in Hálendi.” I shrugged and tried to come up with something to divert Enzo from this topic, worried that he was adding another piece to my puzzle, but he saved me the trouble.
“Won’t your family worry with you being here?”
All the air left my lungs in a rush. “No. My brother is— My brother died, not long ago. My father had already passed away.” Enzo’s boot crunched in the dirt as he took a step toward me, but I took two steps back without looking up.
“I should be going, Your— Enzo.” I took a shaky breath, eyes on the floor. I touched my fist to my shoulder. My head was not where it should be for talking about my past.
I turned and hurried out of the barn, glancing back once I reached the door. Enzo watched me with a half smile and a furrowed brow. He was the man I was betrothed to. But as long as the mage roamed the Plateau, I would need to stay vigilant. Enzo had a way of pulling secrets from me.
* * *
When I got back, the guard still slept, his head lolling at an awkward angle. I rolled my eyes at him, snuck back in, changed into the long blue skirt and switched Ren’s book into the skirt pocket. The floor creaked as I inched my way to Yesilia’s room, my sheathed sword in hand.
Her door opened with a whoosh right as I reached it. I stood there, arm outstretched, frozen. Yesilia took the sword from my hand and replaced it on the hook in her room. “You won’t need that here.” She glanced at the ring I’d settled back on my finger, then bustled past, leaving me blinking in her wake. Had she been watching? Did she know I’d left? It hadn’t been expressly forbidden….
A man burst into the room holding a small child in his arms.
“Please, help! My son, he was shaking and his skin is burning with fever!”
Yesilia pointed at which bed she wanted him in, then shooed the man to the other side of it. She assessed the boy—felt his stomach, his forehead, even put her ear to his chest to listen to his heart. “Fetch the catnip and honey,” she said. The man didn’t move. She looked up. “Aleinn? Did you hear me?”
I froze for a moment—she wanted me to help? I ran to the shelf and picked out the jars—I knew where everything was from when I’d cleaned yesterday—and brough
t some extra scraps of cloth for good measure. While Yesilia ground the herb with her pestle, I gathered water from the giant pot over the low-burning fire.
Yesilia nodded and went to work. A half hour later, the boy was comfortable, and the father was calm, sitting by the bed, dabbing a cool cloth on his son’s forehead. I returned the jars to their places. Yesilia had managed to get the fever down faster than anything I’d ever seen.
“Sit,” she told me, and pointed to a table with two chairs by her shelf of remedies. I perched on one while she gathered two cups, filled them with hot water, and sprinkled some herbs and honey in, swirling them both as she sat across from me. “I see the way you watch when I work,” she said. My leg bounced under the table. “You can ask anything, you know. What I do. Why I do it.”
I licked my lips and blew on the cup she handed over. “How does it work? How do you know which herbs to use?”
She sat back and folded her age-worn hands around her own cup. “Knowing which herb comes from a lot of years of experience,” she started. “But the key to any good healer isn’t in their supply cabinet.”
“It’s not?” I asked.
She shook her head and took a sip. “It’s your ability to focus your mind on what you want to do. You want the body to piece itself back together, to heal itself.”
“But that little boy got better so quickly. Back home, he would have been suffering most of the day with fever, if not longer.” A tiny voice whispered in my mind, wondering about my mother, about how precious time had been spent looking for a healer, for anyone who could help.
“Just as every person is different, so is the timing for each individual, and that can even depend on how willing the body is to get better.”
How willing? Who would want to stay sick?
She smiled like she knew my thoughts, but continued without addressing them. “Children are usually fast healers, but you, child, healed the fastest I’ve ever seen.”
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