Page 17 of Skysong

She had almost refused it. Had almost pushed the bottle away and stood, ready to leave Kitt’s rooms with every intention of not coming back. She didn’t need this, any of it – not the medicine, not his perceptiveness or his tact, especially not his kindness.

Instead, Andala had taken the tonic. Her gratitude was quiet, almost silent, but genuine. And Kitt had understood, as he so often did, without another word needing to be said.

Each time she took tea with him after that, there was a new little bottle waiting on his desk, ready for Andala to take should she need to replenish her supply. She kept doing so long after she’d become certain that the tonic had no effect. Even though it didn’t help, as Kitt had said, it didn’t hurt.

She took a spoonful now, relishing the medicine’s bitter tang. It was bracing, restorative. It helped her prepare to face the skylark once more.

She’sreal.She’sreal.She’sreal.

This time the words were a war drum, marching Andala back into the battle she’d created for herself.

The skylark was real – and as long as all eyes were on Oriane, Andala knew none would land on her.

62

Chapter 9

Agift, they called her song. Oriane had never thought to consider it as such, but it felt like one now. Some people were born with a gift for music, crafting melodies from instruments or words. Some put words on paper, painting pictures in a reader’s mind. Some painted real pictures, capturing beauty or feeling with brush and canvas and pigment. Oriane had learned all that from her books and from her father’s stories. But she had never thought of the giftshemight possess. Perhaps it was as precious as that of the musician or the writer or the artist. Perhaps she could bring people joy or help them through sorrow, not with a ballad, book or portrait, but by calling for the sun, just as she had always done.

The rest of the morning flew by in a blur. She ate a sumptuous meal, then penned a quick, excited letter to her father, extending the king’s invitation for them both to stay at the palace. Andala soon returned to help her change out of her buttery gown and into a plainer, less elaborate one. It felt more like what she usually wore, though it was still ten times finer than anything she owned.

Oriane didn’t see the king or Hana again throughout the day, but soon after she had changed, Kitt arrived at her door.

‘I wondered if you might like to take a tour of the palace,’ he said, the corners of his kind eyes crinkling.63

‘I would love that,’ Oriane replied at once. ‘Thank you.’ She hesitated, then turned to Andala, who was fitting the yellow gown carefully to a hanger. ‘Would you care to come too, Andala?’

Andala’s gaze shot to her, then to Kitt. Oriane wondered whether she’d done the wrong thing. Perhaps it was not her place to have invited her lady’s maid on such an excursion, or maybe—

‘Perhaps I will join you later,’ Andala said, returning her attention to the gown.

‘Of course,’ Kitt said immediately, and Oriane breathed a silent sigh of relief; whatever her faux pas had been, it seemed forgotten now. ‘The gardens are the best part of the whole place, of course, but I’d be pleased to show you around the palace itself first, and perhaps my workroom—’

A little scoff sounded from across the room. ‘So you can pester her with questions and study her like one of your experiments?’ Andala asked, raising her eyebrows as she hung Oriane’s dress in the wardrobe. ‘Very subtle.’ She must have caught Oriane’s faint look of alarm, because she added briskly, ‘You’ve nothing to worry about. He’s a boffin, but he’s also annoyingly honourable.’

Kitt ignored all of this, turning a gracious smile Andala’s way. ‘You really should join us later, Andala. It’s a beautiful day out – some sunshine in the gardens might do you good. Have I told you you’ve been looking a touch ghostly lately?’

Andala shot him a wry look, but amusement tugged at one corner of her mouth, so there was no real venom in it.

‘Do you know each other well?’ Oriane asked, looking between them curiously. There was a familiarity to their exchange that suggested something more than the usual courtier–servant relationship.

Kitt nodded. Then his eyes widened as he caught the meaning of her glance. ‘But oh, skies, not likethat.’64

Oriane laughed; she couldn’t help it.

Andala rolled her eyes at Kitt. ‘I’ll try not to be offended,’ she said dryly. Then to Oriane, ‘We’re friends. Kitt …’ She paused, seeming to consider him. ‘He has always been kind to me, even though someone of his position doesn’t have to be.’

Oriane was touched by the hint of tenderness in Andala’s voice.Friends.This must be what friendship was like, then. Kindness, and teasing, and a comfortable intimacy.

She wanted so badly to experience it for herself.

‘Oriane?’ Kitt was saying gently. She realised she must have been staring vacantly. Trying to pull herself together, she smiled at them both.

‘I would love to see the palace. When can we go?’

After Andala agreed to meet them in the gardens later, Kitt took Oriane on a whirlwind tour of the palace, which culminated in her favourite space by far: his workroom.

She was taken aback by the size of the chambers. They comprised three huge spaces, separated by partitions: one was filled with bottles and vials and various medical equipment, one housed Kitt’s living quarters, and one was dominated by an enormous wooden workbench, littered with peculiar tools and bits of metal.

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