Page 25 of Desperately Yours

I stared into her amber eyes, hoping she would break if she had to face me. But she tightened her jaw, more resolute than ever. There was a chance I could call her bluff, but then again, she might be willing to let the king die. As I understood it, he abandoned her province. Her loyalty wasn’t with him. I simply couldn’t afford the chance.

Without speaking, I nodded my agreement to her terms.

“Very well. I’ll get my bag.” She turned and pushed her way back inside, closing the door behind her. I exhaled with the clickof the latch. I drew in a breath, unable to process the contract I’d entered. Had I given up my only chance with Fitz? Was it all a huge mistake? Maybe he was right, maybe we should have run away when we had a chance. It didn’t matter anymore. The moment had passed. All I had left was to follow through, consequences in play.

Looking at the ground, I called him from the shadows where I knew he was watching.

“Kabir, you can come out. I need you to escort us to the kitchen.”

My bodyguard waited a moment before the shuffle of his boots brought him into the light.

“M’lady, you have to know this is a risk to all of you. Sadira’s apothecary trade isn’t considered medicine. They’ll see it as dark arts, and if she attempts to override the king’s physician, she could pay the price.”

I nodded. “I understand and I’ll fight for her if necessary. All I know is that she brought me back in record time and if there’s a chance that—”

“Yes, m’lady. I agree. I only needed to be sure you understood the risks,” Kabir interjected. “I’m on your side.”

At least someone was.

“Thank you.” I thought of the earlier events. “And in case you didn’t hear at the banquet, I’m not noble so you can drop the Lady Michaela stuff.”

The looming bodyguard took a few more steps toward me. “I was there. I heard what she said.” His chin tipped upward, jaw square and determined. “Perhaps some of us recognize nobility in actions more than in a gifted title.”

“That’s kind, Kabir, but I’m not anyone special. I’m just—”

“A young woman trying to save the kingdom by sacrificing her own desires. There are, in fact, many of us who have seen this trait in you.” Kabir’s hand curled into a fist as he brought itacross his chest and dropped to one knee. My mind flashed back to the last time I’d seen it. Bishop, when he was teaching me about the rituals. This was the Imbuement of Courage, the signal passed between soldiers. “My devotion I pledge to the one I hope to call queen.” His head dropped to his chest as if to bow. “May you reign in mercy and love.”

My mouth went dry. I was only trying to save the king so that Fitz wouldn’t have to lose his father if he didn’t have to. I wasn’t looking to overthrow anything or steal a kingdom.

Kabir’s arm dropped to his side as the door opened again. By the time Sadie exited, dressed more appropriately and carrying a black bag, Kabir stood once more.

“Are we ready, then?”

“Yes,” I whispered, unsure of what had transpired in the hall.

Kabir led the way while I followed, preoccupied with thoughts of those who saw me as a possible queen. The reporter, Celani, said it first, but I didn’t believe it. Was Kabir talking about other guards? Staff at the palace? People in the cities?

Did they really want me to be… queen?

Fitz

When was the last time I’d slept? The days blurred together into one glob of exhaustion. One crisis bled into the next, leaving me in a state of constant panic and planning. Was this what ruling as king would feel like? Had this been my father’s lot in life for the past five decades?

But it didn’t matter anymore; at least, not for the time being.

He was alive. My father still lived and reigned over Nolcovia.

I rubbed an open palm over my face and sank onto the plush couch outside my parents’ chambers. Bishop sat in an opposite chair, body folded forward with his elbows on his knees and hands locked behind his neck.

It was an interminable night for both of us.

It started with a knock on my door about an hour after Coco had deserted me. Fearing the worst, I braced myself for the news that my father had passed. Instead, I found an irate cook’s assistant yammering about a witch in the kitchen brewing potions for the king.

What I found instead was Sadira creating the soup she’d made for Michaela after she’d been injured. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to try it sooner, bless her for thinking of it. I did have to go head-to-head with my mother, but what was the risk when death was imminent? We were losing him, and if her concoction killed him an hour too soon, it wouldn’t matter in the long run. Desperation drove me to try anything.

But an hour passed, and then another; each time she returned, Lady Sadira managed to feed him more. His strength returned, much to the surprise of Father’s royal physician, but even when pressed, Sadira refused to give up the contents of what she fed him.

I honestly didn’t care if it meant he might survive. Was it foolish to hope that she could cure him altogether?

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