Page 27 of Hemlock & Silver
I was braced for him to berate me—I’ve had parents do that before, and even though I know it’s out of fear for their children, I don’t particularly enjoy it—but he simply nodded. “What next?”
“Observation.” I looked down at my notebook. “I’ll have to spend a few days tracking what she eats and testing anything that seems suspicious. Knowing how it’s getting into her system will help narrow it down. And also she can stop eating it, of course.”
“You think it’s something she’s eating?”
“It’s the most likely scenario. It’s not as if she’s a laborer at a ceramic works and breathing in lead dust all day. And the vomiting may be a symptom.”
He nodded. “I’ll be staying here for four days,” he said. “Then I have to go on to the port.”
“Yes, of course.” Kings couldn’t just sit by their daughters’ bedsides, they had to keep doing king things. “If I haven’t worked it out by the time you leave, I’ll arrange to get a message to you as soon as I know more.”
He nodded again. “There’s someone else you should meet,” he said. “Come with me.”
I glanced back at the door to Snow’s room. “A moment, Your Majesty…”
Royal eyebrows went up in surprise.
I gestured to the door. “I thought I’d tell Snow that, err, it’s not bad news…?”I’d want to know, myself. But maybe you’re not supposed to tell children that you don’t know what’s going on? Oh dear…
“Yes, of course,” the king said.
I ducked my head and went back into the room. Snow was sitting in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. She was so pale in the dimness of the room that she practically glowed. It wasn’t hard to see how she had gotten her name.
“Snow? I just wanted to tell you that I don’t know if it’s poison or not, but Iamgoing to find out.”
“Thank you, Healer Anja.” She nodded solemnly to me, then turned away. And then she smiled, a sly, secretive smile. Not a happy smile, but the look of someone whoknowsthat they’re the smartest person in the room. It was so startling that my first thought was that I was misinterpreting her expression entirely.
If not for the mirror, I wouldn’t have seen it at all.
I was still mulling over that odd smile as the king led me along the gallery that overlooked the courtyard. I was vaguely surprised that no footmen appeared to trail after him or rush ahead opening doors, but they didn’t. Perhaps at Witherleaf the king did not require servants to add to his consequence.If I were a king, I expect I’d get very tired of being followed around by servants very quickly.
We went down a set of steps and out onto a wide veranda. Blue ceramic pots stood in little clusters, holding dozens of agaves,some with broad, strappy leaves, some forming tight, spiny balls like giant artichokes. A stout old woman sat at a table among the bristling plants, sipping tea.
“Aunt Sorrel!” the king cried.
Wait,aunt? The king doesn’t have an aunt. All he had was an uncle, and the Demon never actually married.
She pushed herself upright with the help of a cane and held out her arms. For the second time in an hour, I saw unguarded emotion on the king’s face. Whoever this woman was, he cared for her very much.
“Healer Anja,” he said, once he had seen the woman settled back in her chair, “this is Madame Sorrel. Aunt, this is Healer Anja. She’s an expert on poisons.”
Madame Sorrel turned to me and smiled warmly. She likely had never been beautiful, but it seemed as if age had revealed the strength of the bones in her face. She had the fine, pale lines at the corners of her eyes that people get in the desert when they spend years squinting against the sun. “Welcome to Witherleaf,” she said. “I realize that you’re here for a very unfortunate reason, but I do hope we can make you as comfortable as possible.”
Shemeantit, too. That was the surprising thing. I got the impression that she genuinely cared about whether or not I was comfortable here.
“Sit, sit,” Sorrel said, gesturing to the chairs. “Randolph, you’re working too hard. You have that look.”
The king’s name was Randolph? Had I known that? I must have, but I’d never given it much thought. Kings are kings for such a long time that you really only need to refer to them as something other thanthe kingonce they’re dead. (Unless you travel, I suppose, and then you can get away with calling them simply the king of your country, or this country, or that country over there.)
Randolph, the king, sat. I took a chair and perched on the edge, feeling awkward.
“You should come here more often,” Sorrel said, pouring tea.The teapot was deceptively simple terra-cotta. No glazes. I accepted a cup of tea with an internal sigh of relief.
“I should,” the king said, “but you know how it is.”
“Of course,” Sorrel said.
She smiled at me. “So, how are you finding Witherleaf so far? I realize that’s an unfair question, since you’ve seen it mostly in the dark, but I’m obligated to ask anyway.”
