Page 73 of Healer to the Ash King
“Are you sure?” He looks disappointed.
“I’m sure.”
He sighs. “If we go out there now, the guards will think I’m far too quick to my pleasure, as you said.”
“But I know the truth. You can last a long time, with the right touch.”
“Mmm.” His eyes close briefly, and I know he’s remembering those hours we spent in the grass by the stream. “Best day of my life, I do believe.”
“Really?” My heart, sore and strained, heals a little at those words.
“Really.” He kisses my cheek.
“I’ll tell the guards you gave me a good one. Better yet—” I tilt back my head and release loud orgasmic cries. “Oh gods. Oh I’m coming—I’m—oh, Rince—you’re the best lay in the kingdom, the very best!”
Rince claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. Silently laughing myself, I reach up to his ear and whisper, “I’m glad you didn’t die today.”
He sobers, pulling back and cupping my shoulders. He whispers, “Do as you’ve promised, Cailin. Remember, our mission is saving lives. Saving the kingdom. To do that, there must be sacrifice. There’s more here at stake than you know, and I have powerful people on my side too, people to whom I must answer. They won’t be pleased with either of us if you prove untrustworthy.”
My mouth opens, surprise stealing my words. Before I can cobble together a response, Rince opens the door and hurries out, pretending to adjust his pants.
I shut the door behind him and lean against it, shaken to my core.
What Rince said to me wasn’t exactly a threat—more of a warning. Still, I’m worried that I’ve inadvertently gotten deeper into the political scene than I ever wanted to be. Why couldn’t the King have just left me alone? What made him choose me? He’s never mentioned who told him about me, or what they said. I should ask him.
There’s no banquet tonight—just a dinner for the King and the Favored. Tomorrow will be another challenge—a violent one, judging from the King’s comments today.
I order food to my room and eat quickly before wandering out into the palace. I want to explore a bit more. It’s such a beautiful, enormous place, yet I’ve only visited a few areas of it.
I don’t ask for guidance. If I get lost, I’ll just ask one of the omnipresent servants or guards to help me find my way again. It feels delightfully adventurous to wander the halls alone. I’ve explored the outdoors many times back home, but I’ve never had the opportunity to meander through a building as large and complex as this one.
Barefoot, dressed in a simple gown, I follow the main halls—the wide spacious corridors where most of the traffic of palace life happens, the ones that smell faintly of that cloying royal incense.
I pursue a broad hallway to its very end and take a quaint side stairway, which twists up and up, then spits me out into a narrow passage that smells old and stale. The faded red carpet here is threadbare, thin. I pad along it, taking a strange comfort in the fact that it isn’t as plush and rich like everything else I’ve seen here. There’s a lamp burning near the stairs, but the rest of the hallway is dark, so I light the small lamp I brought with me and hold it high.
The white plaster walls give way to painted brick, interspersed by doors of golden wood bracketed with black iron. Most are locked, but one of them yields, revealing a musty, dusty room, garnished with cobwebs.
At the end of that hallway, a metal stairway takes me down, down, down, and I weave through several short corridors, ducking around tight corners and jumping when my lamp makes the shadows dance in deep-set doorways. There’s not a servant or a guard to be seen in this area of the palace. Strange. I suppose the King never comes here, so there’s no need for it.
Ahead, there’s a new section—walls paneled with glossy dark wood, cheerful lamps in sconces, the murmur of voices. I pass what looks to be a common room for the servants. Down another hallway there are storage areas with hundreds of wooden shelves, all completely stocked with goods for the care of the household. There’s a door marked “Fur Closet” and another marked “Linens.” Stone steps descend to a lower hall, possibly holding the cold-cellars, but I skip that one and move on.
The few servants I pass give me curious looks, and some smile. One of them, a kind-looking woman who reminds me of my mother, stops me with a gentle, “Can I help you, Healer?”
“I’m exploring,” I tell her. “Is that all right?”
“It is in my opinion, but Mistress Effelin might have a different view if she sees you wandering down here. Is there anything special you wanted to see?”
“Well, I—” I hesitate, glancing around. “I was curious about artifacts, books—maybe information on magic?”
The woman’s expression turns cautious. “Well, His Majesty doesn’t cater to the study of magic, as you know. He’s had bad experiences with it, you see. Fears it, you might say.”
“I’ve always been taught that understanding a thing can help you fear it less.”
“That’s a good thought, my lady. But it’s not my place to speak on the King’s opinion. I will say that if you’re interested in magic of the kind you wield, you might speak with Jonald, the palace healer. He’s getting on in years now, and a bit soft in the mind at times, but he’s a kindly soul. Tends to talk a bit more than he should about the old days. Could be interesting.” She gives me a mischievous smile.
“I’d love to. Is it too late to see him now, do you think?”
“He does go to his rest early, but he’s usually reading around this time. He’ll be glad of the company. Come on, I’ll take you to him.”
