Nothing—not the assassins, not hearing Rahk declare I’d been poisoned, not even Rahk himself—terrifies me as much as that.

I grab his wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Stomach. Poison. Investigate,” says the doctor with a thick Algravian accent.

“No, no investigate!” I try to get to my knees. They wobble and when I get one foot flat on the bed, I pitch to one side.

The prince catches me. Which is a horrible thing, it turns out, because he pulls me against his chest and captures my wrists in one vice-like fist, gripping them next to my face. “Hold still. The doctor is not going to hurt you.”

My panic turns blinding white. They’re going to remove my shirt and see my chest binding and there will be no recovery—for my job, my reputation, my fortune, my chance to avoid marriage, or my own dignity. “Please, please I don’t want—”

The prince’s low voice is a gentle murmur as he restrains me. “Nat, I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. Trust me.”

I’m panting, his long hair tickling my temple as I try to twist my wrists out of his grip. But I’m so weak, there is no chance of escape. I sag. A whimper sounds in the back of my throat.

“It is alright,” the prince soothes again as his hand reaches down toward the hem of my shirt.

I breathe far too quickly, wriggling uselessly.

Swiftly, the prince lifts my shirt, revealing my middle. He stops, however, at the base of my ribcage just below my chest binding, my shirt fisted in his grip, only allowing the doctor access to my stomach.

Wait, does this mean I won’t be disco—

Something cold presses against my stomach. My whole body seizes up. I yelp.

“Warm up the instrument first!” cries the prince. “The boy is in a delicate state!”

“Apology!” says the doctor, removing the cold metalthing. He holds it between his palms for a moment and then puts it back on my skin.

The doctor performs his investigation while the prince holds me. I grind my teeth and try to look anywhere but the doctor or the prince’s hand that holds my shirt. My eyes land on striped wallpaper and stay there.

At last, the doctor pulls away. The prince immediately puts my shirt back down. I let out the breath I was clinging to. He releases my wrists. I squirm away from him at once.

“Stomach. Small poison, not big poison,” announces the doctor, pointing at me. “Stomach sad. Eat cold foods.”

The prince stares blankly at the doctor, then turns to me. “Does that mean anything to you?”

I tug on the bottom of my shirt. “I think he’s saying only a little poison got to my stomach and that cold foods will help my body process it.”

The doctor nods eagerly, apparently much better at understanding our language than speaking it.

“That is it for managing the rest of the poison?” asks the prince dubiously. When the doctor nods, he shrugs. “You humans have odd medical practices and odd poisons, but we shall serve you cold foods and see if it helps. You already look better.”

I do feel better. I don’t resist as the doctor bandages my temple. Rahk gets up, seemingly glad to put distance between us once again. When the doctor closes his case, all his things packed up, the prince calls for Edvear to pay the doctor.

Guilt stabs me at once. I clutch the quilts and try to sit up. “You must take the fee out of my payment. I’m so sorry to have created such a—”

Rahk shoots me such a look, one that is both incredulous and furious, that I immediately snap my mouth shut. Edvear leads the doctor away and closes the door?leaving the prince and I alone.

I lick my lips. I shouldn’t fight him, but I cannot let him pay my doctor’s fee. I’m his servant, not someone he is responsible for. I’m notfamily.“Master, it is more than generous of you to handle this, but I don’t deserve it. Please let me pay for myself.”

Rahk, who leans against the table, folds his arms across his chest and regards me. His mouth is drawn in a tight, thin line. “You don’t deserve my generosity? How is this generosity, Nat? You saved my life. This doesn’t even come close to repaying the life debt I owe you.”

I draw back. “Life debt? Is that a fae thing? We don’t have those here.”

He shifts his weight, gripping the edge of the table in both hands. “I’m going to ask you a question, and you are going to answer it completely honestly.”

The ache of my throat and temple vanishes immediately in the thrumming pulse of my blood. Does he suspect my secret? Did he discover it while I was unconscious?