Page 17 of Healer to the Ash King
“A scan?”
“I can sense things that are wrong in the body. Especially when I close my eyes.”
We’re standing on opposite sides of the victim, bent slightly to inspect him, and when we both look up, our profiles are far too close—so close I can smell mint and herbs on his breath, and he can probably smell alcohol on mine.
The Ash King’s hair is tied back today, secured in a loose plait. A crown of antlers and ferns, wrought from black iron and gold, runs from one temple around the back of his skull to the other temple. It settles atop his ears, branching against his cheekbones, and it leaves his smooth forehead bare. His eyebrows are penciled dark, and sooty lines highlight the shape of his eyes. I’ve never noticed how long his lashes are—or perhaps those have been enhanced as well.
“Your eyes,” he says quietly. “They turn gold when you work.”
“Apologies, my lord. It is a strange effect.”
He hesitates, his gaze averting from mine. His lips part for a second before he says, “It’s beautiful.”
A jittery, tremulous sensation unfurls through my chest. I’m afraid of him, that’s what it is. Nothing else.
“Thank you, Majesty,” I reply.
Now that the man is unconscious, his mouth is only slightly open. I press his chin to open it farther, and I let threads of magic wriggle between his lips. Slowly I begin to recreate the tongue. I can feel the phantom shape of it, the edges of the space it used to occupy, the form it took. All I have to do is fill in that space, coax the existing cells to multiply and the new cells to arrange themselves in the right pattern.
It's painstaking work, regrowing something that’s been entirely removed. I didn’t see the tongue lying anywhere around, and I didn’t want to ask for it in case the answer was too terrible.
“I have to greet all the Favored officially this evening,” says the King abruptly. “The last two arrive today. I have things to prepare.”
“I’m sure you do,” I say. “Please do not stay on my account.”
“You’ll be all right alone? In this—” he glances around at the stark stone room, with its chains and bloodstains— “wretched place?”
“I won’t be happy,” I reply. “But I’ll be fine.”
“Good. Because I need to go.”
But he doesn’t leave. He keeps standing there, staring, and when I finally look up, his dark eyes are fixed on mine with an expression of utter fascination. There’s something else in his manner, too—a brittle, panicked energy.
“Are you nervous, Your Majesty?” My fingertips twitch in midair and my golden lines ripple back and forth, making the layers of the tongue.
“Why should I be nervous?” he scoffs. “These women are here at my will, for my pleasure.”
“Maybe because the entire kingdom is invested in the outcome of this competition, and the Capital’s population has swelled with visitors who plan to attend each public event? Owin tells me all the inns and empty rooms in the city are full.”
The King makes another scoffing sound and strides to the table where I left my cup of liquor. He drains it in two great gulps.
“Or maybe you are nervous because you have to choose a lover, a mother for your children, and a companion for life.”
“Children. Gods.” He slams the cup down, but he doesn’t stop me, so I venture further.
“Maybe you are concerned about your own safety. But Owin tells me every contestant was thoroughly vetted, along with their guards and servants. Only long-time, loyal family servants were allowed to accompany the Favored—well-known people, no one new, no one who might have slipped into another person’s identity. You need not fear on that account.”
“I don’t fear,” he snaps. “I can defend myself.”
“As you did yesterday, from that arrow.”
“You saved me, yes. I have already acknowledged it. Do you want some reward? Isn’t my trust enough?”
“Reward?” My mind begins to spin through the possibilities. I dare not ask for much, but perhaps I can use his grudging gratitude to my advantage. “The only reward I need is the chance to explore the city alone this afternoon.”
He shakes his head, striding back to the table on which my subject lies. “Not alone. As you said, the city is crowded with strangers of every kind. Our streets are haunted by unsavory thieves and ruffians hoping to take advantage of gullible visitors. You would be a kitten among wolves.”
“A kitten?” Both my eyebrows shoot up, and I nearly forget my hold on the healing magic. “I’m not a kitten.”
