Page 39 of Healer to the Ash King
Weary as I am, I can’t help marveling at this room. But I lift my chin, conscious of my appearance and the strength I want to portray. My maid dressed me in a gown of bronze that nearly matches my skin. Far from the flowing, gauzy things I’ve worn so far, it has geometric panels that dramatize my shape. Fierce ridges of stiff metallic fabric jut from my hips and shoulders. My hair is upswept, fixed with sharp, glittering pins, and my eyelids and lashes glimmer with bronze paint and gold dust.
As Owin escorts me farther into the dining hall, I spot a cluster of the Favored, clad in magnificent gowns and elaborate jeweled headpieces. I turn toward them with an eager smile.
“I’m going to talk to them,” I tell Owin. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for escorting me.”
He eyes the women uncertainly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He shrugs and moves away, taking up a post by the wall.
I continue toward the Favored. After I healed everyone today, surely they’ll be grateful, and maybe even want to be friends.
As I near them, though, I realize their smiles are anything but kind.
One of them sneers as she examines my outfit. “Don’t you think that’s a bit overdone, dear?”
“You do know you’re not the queen, right?” another girl titters. “And you’re not one of the Favored, either.”
“Sweetie, I love the spotlight as much as any other woman, but really,” adds a third girl. “Enough is enough. Stop trying so hard.”
Khloe steps out from behind one of the girls. “Take it easy on Cailin. She saved lives today.”
“We’re just trying to help her realize how she’s coming across,” replies the first woman. “If you were making a fool of yourself in front of the entire kingdom, wouldn’t you want someone to tell you the truth?”
Khloe’s dark eyes take on a malignant sparkle. “You’re just jealous because she looks more glamorous and queenly than all of you.” She steers me away from the Favored, toward one of the long tables.
“They’re right, aren’t they?” I whisper. “I overdid it tonight, with this look.”
“Not at all,” Khloe says stoutly. “Most of them are wearing far more expensive gowns and flashier jewels than yours.”
“I don’t want all the attention. It’s just been happening to me.” I stare at her helplessly, willing her to understand.
Khloe shifts her stance and winces. “I can see that you mean well, Cailin, and you have the sweetest heart. But the displays of your magic, and your interactions with the Ash King, kissing his hand like you’re one of the contestants—”
“Heofferedme his hand,” I protest. “What should I have done, reject it? And I only did water magic before the challenge because I was so bored, and I felt awkward just standing there. Besides, everyone in the crowd seemed to enjoy it.”
“The people like you,” Khloe says. “No doubt about it. I think that’s what concerns the Favored, that you’re pulling focus from them, winning the hearts of the citizens without even meaning to. That, and the fact thathetreats you differently.” She nods toward the dining hall entrance, where the Ash King has just appeared, flanked by servants and guards.
He’s wearing robes of metallic bronze over an ivory doublet decorated with gold. His pants are the same creamy fabric, and they match his boots, which are also threaded with gold.
“Did you intend for your outfit to coordinate with his?” Khloe whispers. “Because it does.”
“I didn’t plan for it.” The words drift vaguely from my mouth, because I can’t take my eyes off him. This whole time I knew he was handsome, of course, but now—he looks so strong, so tall, so utterly exquisite and regal—I want to crumple at his feet. But I strengthen myself with the memory of his hostile eyes, and his scorching hand at my neck, and his savage words.
He is not my friend, nor am I his. We are enemies, thrown together by his whim and a set of odd circumstances. My allegiance lies with my friends, my family, and the people of my village.
The King greets the Favored, actually smiling, gracing them with kisses on their cheeks or fingers. My stomach thrills and sickens at the same time, because I didn’t realize he could be so charming. When he slides his arm around the waist of the girl who called me a fool, bile rises in my throat.
“How do we know where we’re supposed to sit for dinner?” I ask Khloe.
“You’ll probably be with the contest officials,” she says. “If you’ll excuse me—I’d like to greet him.” She gives me an apologetic smile and moves away, toward the Ash King.
When he sees her, his face warms and softens. Of course it does. She’s a precious darling. She’s also seven years younger than him—eighteen to his twenty-five—and she’s pregnant. But none of that is my business.
I won’t stand alone in the center of the room, so I walk toward the edge of the space and pretend to be perusing the gilded engravings along the wall. I stand there a long time, until I’ve practically memorized every cottage, tree, monster, and milkmaid in the elaborate design.
Suddenly a warm palm grazes the bare skin of my back, the open space between the panels of my dress. It’s the lightest touch, gone in a blink, but I can still feel the vibrating heat of it.
