Page 77 of Haunted

And Prince Kelyn.

“I’m astonished,” I say. “Truly. How did you learn your craft?”

“We’re required to take a basic healing course when we go to the university.”

“University?” I shake my head, loosening the snowflakes that fleck it. “I’ve been deprived my entire life. I’ve never been to a university. Everything I’ve learned was from books that I’ve managed to get my hands on. And you took only a basic class?”

“Yes. I specialized in combat. My dearest friend continued her healing courses. She’s the midwife I learned that delivery technique from.”

We reach the keep’s entrance. Niawen and I shake the snow from our cloaks under the overhang before entering.

“I’m in your debt, Niawen. Had you not come along, I don’t think the babe would have survived.”

“Remember, I’m a warrior, not a healer.”

“We all think we’re something until life chooses a different path for us.”

“Just don’t let your pride get in the way of those you can help,” she says.

“As you wish. I humbly beg your pardon.”

She shakes her head, annoyed. “Good night.”

I’m left in the hall, alone.

56

“Niawen, I want to show you something.” I enter the library, pleased with the scheme I’ve concocted. “I’ve thought about our earlier conversation. With you moaning around, stuck indoors by the snow, and with Seren gone, I thought you needed purpose.”

She doesn’t tear her eyes away from the window. Seren’s been gone for six days, and Niawen’s forlorn state hasn’t improved. She does a lot of reading to pass the time. There was one moment in which I caught her reading a tawdry novel from my library, and I tried to take it from her, but she wrestled it out of my hands, determined to finish it. I was mortified that she learned of my abhorrent reading selections.

Watching her face color as she turned the pages was worth it.

She hasn’t exactly cooled toward me since our quarrel in the study. At least I’m not fretting over Siwan. Now that she is safely delivered, I can focus my attention on Niawen and making amends.

“Come now, Niawen.” I slip across the room and peer into her face, hopeful.

“Oh, all right. I hate to be a sour guest.”

I don’t like that she thinks of herself as a guest. “Not a guest. This is your home for as long as you can put up with me.”

She purses her lips. “Lead the way.”

“Bolster your light; we’re going outside.”

“Hmm, where are you taking me?”

I’m delighted she’s perplexed. We leave the keep by a side door and hurry under a shoveled alcove. “I know you told me you’re more of a warrior than a healer,” I say, “but after you told me how you saved the bricklayer, Queen Sorfrona, and Prince Kelyn, I believe you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

We pause in front of a door facing the courtyard. A few guards mill about, but most people with common sense are inside. I push the door open. “This chamber belonged to an apothecary. I had the room cleaned and furnished with beds and linens, herbs and bandages.”

I don’t tell her that I was that apothecary. Let her puzzle that out on her own.

A fire burns in the center of the long room, making the modest space pleasant. At one end, a door opens to a stock room that I filled with herbs hanging from the ceiling and jars with salves lining the shelves. In the main room, four beds line one wall, separated by curtains. A desk and a chair occupy one corner, along with a shelf overflowing with parchment and books. Niawen gazes at the spines and runs her fingers over them. Books on anatomy, herbs, and remedies.

A smile creeps over her face. “Is this for me? An infirmary?”

I slump onto a bed, ready to tease her. “You hate it. Drat. I’ll have the room emptied.”

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