“So what is your solution, then?” he demanded, stepping toward her and gesturing in frustration. “That I drink all of that vile stuff as soon as my pain becomes too great for me to bear?”
“Not at all, sire,” Rose shook her head. “I propose that you drink it now. That way, it will not seem so hot, will doubtlessly taste better—and it will prevent any headache from disturbing you at all tonight.”
The prince stared at her. Then, he took two more steps toward her, never taking his eyes from her.
“You honestly believe that some simple drink will cure what has been incurable by every physician and witch in the land for the length of my entire life?” he hissed, searching her face. Rose didn’t move.
“I do,” she said.
The prince said nothing, just watched her for a long moment. Finally, he drew in a deep breath, and turned back toward the hearth.
“Very well,” he muttered. “I’ll give you one more chance to prove that you actually know what you’re doing. Though I can’t say Iskyla will be pleased.”
Rose suppressed a sudden smile, and set her bag up on a table as the prince moved to the other side of the hearth and lit that lamp as well. Rose quickly took off her gloves, fished out the goblet and the little clay bottle, and let one golden drop from it fall into the goblet. Then, she filled the rest of it with steaming, frothing cider.
“Your Highness,” she called, holding it up. He turned to her, then strode toward the table.
“Set it down,” he ordered. Rose did so, and stepped back. The prince picked up the goblet, eying the foaming liquid within. Then, slowly, he lifted it to his mouth.
This time, he drank much more carefully, with small swallows. He took breaths in between, the skin around his eyes tightening in distaste. Rose watched, holding her breath.
Finally, the prince tipped the goblet back and finished the last three swallows. He lowered it, frowning a little, and pressed his hand to his chest.
“What is it, sire?” Rose asked as he set the goblet down.
He paused. Then, he shook his head.
“Nothing,” he said. “You may go.”
“If His Highness requires anything else—” Rose tried.
“I told you to go,” he said flatly, looking at her and raising his eyebrows in warning.
“Yes, Your Highness.” Rose gave him one last curtsey, put the goblet and bottles back into her bag, pulled on her gloves, and quickly left the chamber, still hiding her smile.
Rose hopped out of the well of the slide, her curly hair wild, her breathless giggles resounding through the silence of the huge, empty chamber.
She had spent the morning doing laundry—with the help of a few housekeeping spells—and then had decided to take a trip down that slide once more, to give the abandoned cellars of the palace another look-through.
She straightened her clothes and pushed her hair out of her face as she stepped out in front of that wide staircase that led to Ember Keep—and that door to her left that led to the corridor and that broken mirror room.
She glanced straight across the way and caught sight of another doorway. Taking a long stride, she skated toward it over the thick layer of frost, her soles swishing over the ice. She crossed the wide floor and stood in front of the shorter doorway, and peered through.
Lights burned very low here—an empty room filled with stacked furniture draped in sheets. And directly across, leaning against the wall…
Rose frowned, and skated inside, trying to distinguish objects from shadow. Then, she drew to a halt.
Oval-shaped, and gleaming black, like obsidian—but she soon realized it was actually made of wood. It looked like a large, empty picture frame, and cracks lined the wood. As if it had been violently dropped, and the glass within had shattered…
Rose stepped nearer, her whole being going quiet. Cautiously, she knelt down in front of it, peering closer…
No. Not a picture frame, after all.
A mirror.
She could see the smallest, jagged edges of reflective glass still skirting the edges of the inner oval. They caught the dim light, and glittered back at her…
Like the eyes of a snake in a pit.
Rose jerked back as if she had been bitten, terrible chills racing through her. A black shadow crossed her mind, and she went cold down to her bones.
Quickly, she backed up and got to her feet, staring for a long time at that eerie, empty mirror.
Then, as swiftly as she could without slipping, she left the room and hurried back up to her quarters.
Chapter Eleven
And Met the Prince’s Wrath
One Week Later
“Yes, what is—”
Rose pushed through the door before the prince could finish his sentence. He stood near his bed, and when he saw her, he whipped off his neckerchief and heaved a sigh.
“How on earth do you always know the exact moment I come to my rooms?” he demanded, then threw the kerchief onto a pile of laundry on the floor. “Are you making a habit of spying on me?”
Rose hid another smile.
“No, sire,” she answered, coming all the way in and setting her bag on the customary table. “I’ve only one duty here at Glas—and I’d rather not be late for it.”
He didn’t look at her, but faced the empty fireplace. He took off his second neckerchief and started winding it round and around his hand. Rose watched him even as she pulled the goblet and ingredients out of her bag.
“How did you sleep last night?” she ventured.
“The same as I have the past seven before it,” the prince answered absently. “Not well. But without as much pain.”
“Good…?” Rose said cautiously, pouring the cider.
He paused. Rose lifted the jug of cider, and waited.
“My headaches have started coming earlier in the day,” the prince murmured, taking a dark glass candlestick down from the mantel and holding it. “I could feel it creeping over me as I ate dinner. And now my vision is doubling in my left eye.”
Rose finished pouring and frowned at him.
“Has anything else changed?” she asked. “In your diet, your habits—”
“No,” the prince snapped, pressing his fingers to his closed eyes.
“Perhaps…” Rose glanced around, setting the jug down. “Perhaps if you lit a fire in the fireplace, or even straightened your bedding, your sleep would improve.” She started toward his bed. “Let me just—”
“Get back!” the prince suddenly thundered, turning on her like a lion. His eyes blazed. “How dare you take such liberties?”
Rose leaped backward, throwing up her hands.
“I was not going to take—” she gasped.
The prince hurled the candlestick at the ground. The unbreakable glass let out a metallic bang and skeltered over the hard floor.
“Do not come near my bed ever again, nor presume to wander about my room at your leisure or even touch my belongings, is that clear?” he snarled, jabbing a finger at her. “May I remind you that I am your prince, and in due time I shall be king, and everything that surrounds me is entirely sacred, do you understand me?”
Heat flared through Rose’s cheeks, and her hands balled to fists.
“I understand that you are being completely unreasonable,” she bit out, her whole body shaking.
“What did you say to me?” He lunged toward her, hissing in her face.
“I have done nothing untoward, and I haven’t broken any law,” Rose shot back, fighting to conceal her trembling, battling to hold his terrible gaze. “I haven’t done anything that any other healer wouldn’t have done. You know that—but this pain of yours has caused you take leave of your senses.”
“You know nothing of my pain,” the prince bit out, and she could feel his cold breath.
“Yes, you’re right, I haven’t felt it for myself,” Rose answered tightly, her cheeks even hotter. “But any reasonable monarch would tell his physician his symptoms so he could be treated
, rather than flinging wild threats at the one person who is trying to help him.”
The prince blinked. Stared at her—then his gaze flashed all over her features.
Rose spun away from him, snatched up her bag with the ingredients and left the full goblet there. Then, without a backward glance, she swept out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
Rose shut her chamber door with a bang and leaned back against it, tears running down her face. She hadn’t been able to stop shaking the whole hike back to Radiance Towers. Now, she could feel her hands still trembling, her breaths ragged in her chest. She jerked off her gloves and threw them on the grassy floor, stepped forward and collapsed onto her knees, closing her eyes.
She felt so weary. Night after night for a week now, she had brought the medicine promptly at five minutes after nine, prepared it for the prince and waited to make certain he drank it—all the while enduring his biting comments, his offhanded insults, his brusque dismissals. Waiting for a simple word of thanks. Which never came.
Now, his headaches had begun invading the daylight hours.
And…what would she have done if he had hit her?
She shivered, swiping at her face with her cold fingers.
She laboriously pulled off her cloak, got to her feet, and laid it on her bed. Moving heavily to her desk, she sat down in the chair, opened a drawer, and pulled out Daisy’s letter.
“Vanish,” she said, tapping the words, and they melted away, leaving a blank parchment. She wiped her tears away again, cleared her throat, and drew out an ink pen, settled her paper, and began to write.
Dear Daisy,
I confess, I’ve had an awful time of it today. Or…this week, really. The prince has allowed me to administer a mix of Source water and cider every night before he goes to bed…
But he is so unfailingly dreadful, Daisy, that being around him is like swallowing poison, or breathing noxious fumes. I feel my vitality draining out of me every time he speaks. And tonight he suddenly turned frightening, and I left him without another word. I doubt I will be able to face him for a while yet. If ever again.
Honestly. I am seriously contemplating leaving this instant.
But in case I don’t, I thought I’d tell you about an odd thing I discovered in the basement of the palace. It was in a room full of extra furniture: a frame, what I thought to be a picture frame at first. But I saw that it used to hold a mirror.
And Daisy, when I knelt down to look at it, I got the most horrible feeling. As if it was a coiled reptile ready to lunge out at me if I came any closer.
What do you suppose this is? Do the masters have any ideas?
As for Stormcrane, no, I don’t know him very well. He’s five years older than I am, and he didn’t stay at the fortress long—he’s incredibly gifted and fearless. He’s fought one faction of dragons whilst allying himself with another faction. He’s also orchestrated a peace treaty between two kingdoms of dwarves, and you know how they can be! He’s incredibly experienced. I have no doubt that whatever is happening in the eastern islands, he’ll have it sorted within a week.
Write back to me when you’re able, and paint a picture of Maith for me. I miss you, the masters, and the mountains and summertime so desperately.
And again, I may pack this very night and leave. He’s been so beastly I can hardly bear thinking about it.
Hope to hear from you soon, dear friend.
Rose
Chapter Twelve
Then Someone Bent a Little
“Hello, Captain Elfrid,” Rose nodded to him as he stood outside the prince’s chambers at five minutes till nine in the evening. Elfrid’s eyebrows went up.
“Madam Healer! Have you come to see the Prince?”
“I’m here to leave the prince’s medicine for him before he comes to retire,” Rose answered. “Could you please open the door for me?”
“Erm…Yes, of course,” Elfrid answered, tugged on the handle, and admitted her.
She quickly slipped inside, glancing around to make certain it was, in fact, empty. The lamps burnt low, and nothing stirred in the shadowy corners. She quickly moved to the table, where the wooden goblet already sat. She peeked inside to see that it was empty.
She opened her bag, pulled out the ingredients, and hurriedly poured them into the goblet. Then, she snapped her bag shut, and left the steaming goblet where it sat. Rose retreated from the room and slid out the door before a startled Elfrid could get it all the way open for her.
“Finished already?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, it isn’t much,” Rose managed a smile for him.
“Do you need help with anything else, ma’am?” Elfrid asked.
Rose glanced at him, and he looked back at her earnestly. She shook her head.
“No, thank you, Elfrid.”
Footsteps echoed at the far end of the hall. She spun to her left, to see the prince and a cadre of attending guards striding up the corridor.
“No, for the last time, Caius, the queen has her own detail, and she doesn’t like to be disturbed,” the prince barked at the guard next to him, even as he rubbed his own forehead.
Rose turned and hurried away, back the way she had come without looking back, hoping he had not seen her.
“Oh, Devon…” Rose sighed, laying back upon the tall pile of hay in the stall as her great horse nuzzled her knees. She absently twirled her fingers through his forelock, and he nickered at her. “What say you to leaving this afternoon, hm? Riding back through the warm valley, picking cherries off the trees to take back to everyone, coming home and eating a whole bowl full of strawberries and cream…”
Devon snorted. She smiled crookedly.
“Not you, of course,” she chuckled.
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but where did you get this horse?”
Rose sat up to see a stableman peer over the wall of the stall at her. He had blue straw stuck in his hat, and wore a beard. His heavy brow frowned.
“He isn’t mine,” Rose answered. “He’s borrowed from my teacher.”
“Hm,” the man huffed. “He’s the strangest beast I’ve ever met.”
“How so?” Rose asked, stifling a grin.
“Why, he won’t eat!” the man exclaimed.
“Ah, yes. Of course,” Rose nodded. “He’s a special breed. He only has to eat twice a year.”
“Twice a year!” the man’s eyes went wide. “How?”
Rose shrugged.
“Magic, I suppose.”
“Hmf!” the man huffed again in bewilderment. Rose glanced around the well-kept stables.
“May I ask, how is it so warm in here and nowhere else?” she asked.
“Ah, we’re right anext the forges,” the man replied, starting to rake again.
“The forges?”
“Yes, the glassworks,” he answered.
Rose sat back with another sigh, winding a strand of her hair around her fingers. She stayed with Devon for another hour, talking to him about the pros and cons of staying versus leaving. In the end, though, Devon didn’t comment, and just flopped down on this knees in the straw with a contented sigh. So, Rose had to climb over him, teasing him all the time, to get to the door of the stall, left the stables and re-entered the base of Radiance Towers.
Down here, even though she sensed the walls were milk-glass, it felt as dark as a cave—at midafternoon. She hurried up the stairs, down a corridor, then up another set of stairs, gradually ascending to the sunlight. Finally, she achieved one of the Jettas, entered, and asked to be taken to the main central level of Radiance Towers.
She stood silently with her hands clasped in front of her, head down, during the length of the ride. Finally, the doors opened, she stepped out to hurry toward her room…
She jerked to a stop.
Prince Nikolas, the queen, and four guards were striding away from her, the queen’s train rolling like a sparkling river across the white floor. The prince wore shimmering blue, with a long coat. He and the queen wer
e talking, and he gestured to the golden borders near the ceiling.
Rose shrank back. The group was heading the same direction she needed to go. She couldn’t possibly make any movement toward them without their noticing her.
Maybe she could jump back into the Jetta—
The Jetta doors clanged shut. She jumped.
Prince Nikolas glanced back.
He saw her.
All the heat drained out of her face. She froze.
There was nowhere to go.
She swallowed hard. Maybe he would just turn back around and keep walking…
He didn’t.
He kept his eyes on her, but leaned toward the queen and whispered in her ear.
Rose felt sick.
The queen instantly turned and glared at her. Her pale eyes flared like lightning. Rose felt frost enter the very air of the hallway.
But then…
The prince let go of the queen. And started striding toward Rose.
Rose’s heart hammered against her breastbone. She made herself plant her feet…
He drew up in front of her, and clasped his hands behind his back. The gold embroidery on his coat twinkled, the morning light caught in his hair and eyes, and he didn’t look as pale as he had the other night, when they had parted so hatefully…
He studied her a moment, his brow slightly furrowed.
“Madam Healer,” he greeted her.
Rose’s lips parted and her eyes went wide, but she suddenly couldn’t speak.
The prince hesitated, glanced at the floor, almost spoke…
Then leaned closer to her, met her eyes and lowered his voice.
“I slept well enough last night,” he stated. “Though the usual concoction was a bit…cool.”
“Oh,” Rose gasped, trying to regain her scattered thoughts. “I… apologize.”
“I’ve come up with a proposal to prevent that problem in the future,” he said, keeping her gaze. “Tonight, come to my quarters at five minutes past nine and prepare my medicine fresh for me.”
Glass Page 9
