Page 81 of Degradation

“The tea,” Getaina said faintly.

A second later, a cup was pressed to my mouth. The rancid taste of the healing tea was familiar enough that I swallowed it despite the taste.

“I meant for me, you dolt,” Getaina said.

“I know, but Kellen needed it more,” Garron said, taking away the cup. “You saw what happens when she loses control.”

The ache in my head eased, and my thoughts settled as he handed her the remaining tea. She drank it quickly.

“Do I owe you an apology?” I asked.

Her sharp gaze found mine, and I could feel her pain.

“You lack finesse, girl, but I can see what Pogwid saw. You ripped my entire life from my head within minutes. And look at you. Barely a headache. Can you feel the way my heart is pounding? My blood feels hot, close to boiling. And the way my head… It felt like I was dying.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know—” I stopped because Ididknow. The knowledge of how to touch someone’s mind without causing pain existed in my mind as if it had always existed…as if it was my own knowledge and not her memories.

“I don’t understand what I did, but I know things. Spells. It feels like I’ve always known them.”

She nodded. “It was knowledge freely given. Not the rest, though. I had to fight you for that.” She looked at Garron. “You should thank me. If I’d let her have it all, your future bride would think she was me.”

“Sincerely, I thank you,” he said with a regal bow.

Getaina snorted. “Words are useless. Thank me by helping me live more comfortably. Help—one hour a day—from one of the princes for the rest of my life.”

“Granted, except for when we travel, unless you wish to travel with us.”

She waved away the offer and focused on me.

“Like Pogwid, the bulk of my strength now lies in my knowledge, which you now have. There’s nothing more I can do for you, girl. Don’t return until the queen is gone. Now, go.”

She leaned back in her chair and waved us out.

When we emerged, the man once again sat on his doorstep, carving. He nodded at us and then went back to work.

I eyed the meager distance between the sun and the horizon as Garron and I walked down the road.

“We should return to the estate,” I said softly.

The words barely left my mouth when I sensed a patrol coming. Grabbing Garron’s hand, I pulled him in between the homes at the end of the road. I lifted my finger to my lips and listened, afraid I’d once again exposed another caster.

“Have you seen any men not from Adele?” the guard asked over a sudden pounding.

The fake man answered, “How am I to know who’s not from Adele by looking at them? Do they look odd?”

The pounding ceased.

“Seven of them,” the guard barked. “Three with a woman posing as their sister and four others posing as their cousins. All of an age ranging between sixteen and twenty-one.”

“Nope. Can’t say that I’ve seen a group of men passing by. No reason to on this street.”

The guard began moving our way. With a thought, I bent the light in the air to show the space behind us as if we didn’t exist, a simpler way to hide than the complex cast I would need to create an illusion such as Getaina had.

Garron remained silent as we watched the guard pass us. I felt his anxiousness when one man looked our way, but it faded once they left.

“The queen knows,” I said softly.

He nodded, took my hand, and led me back to the street and saw the reason for the pounding. Sketches had been nailed to the side of one house. Seven of them. One rough sketch for each prince’s face.

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