Page 125 of The Thirteenth Child
“But not you?” he asked, hearing the words I hadn’t said.
“I…I wasn’t ever really hers to care about. Not after Merrick claimed me.”
“Was it very good, this spiced cake?”
I smiled. “I didn’t think so at the time, but now I’d love to have it again.”
Slowly, as though worried any sudden movement might jar this delicate moment growing between us, he reached out and brushed his fingers over mine. It wasn’t an attempt to hold my hand. It felt as if he wanted to touch me, just to know he could.
“Perhaps—”
“Leopold! Look! Look! See all the changes?” Euphemia said, running back toward us. She grabbed her brother’s hand and whisked him off, chattering in an excited rush.
Leopold glanced over his shoulder, just once, but I felt his expression linger with me for the rest of the morning.
Chapter 44
“Take a deep breath inand hold it,” I instructed when, hours later, I pressed my ear to the bare curve of King Marnaigne’s shoulder blade. I listened to the soft swoosh of his lungs—clear—and the pounding pulse of his heart—strong and steady—then straightened.
“Everything sounds fine to me, Your Majesty,” I said, warming my voice with all the reassurance I could muster.
The king turned his head to scrutinize me. “Are you absolutely certain? Listen again. Please. I’m sure I felt something rattling within me,” he fussed.
I listened to the other lung, then from the front and the back once more.
“There’s nothing.”
Marnaigne released a short sigh of impatience. “You’re sure?”
“You’re in perfect health, sire.”
Physically, this was true.
Mentally…I was unsure.
Since his recovery from the Shivers, Marnaigne fretted over everything. Each headache, every aching joint, was proof he’d fallen ill. His worries ranged from sicknesses as simple as a head cold to delusions of more exotic woe: skin lesions and festering ulcers, hematuria and myiasis.
My biggest responsibility as court healer was to examine the king each time he felt the stirring of something wrong within him. Aloysius made sure to keep one hour of Marnaigne’s afternoons free for these appointments. Since the war’s end, they’d increased in frequency and were now a daily habit.
Though I no longer could automatically see the cure any patient needed, I still had my knowledge of medical treatments and procedures and often found myself feeling incredibly grateful that Merrick had insisted on taking my training so seriously.
“Do you think I’ll be well enough to attend tonight’s dinner?” he worried, pulling on his brocade robe and tying the sash.
I straightened the collar for him, using the activity to hide my smile. “I absolutely do, Your Majesty.”
“René,” he tutted, sounding miserable with my clean bill of health.
“René,” I repeated. Despite how close Bellatrice, Euphemia, and I had become in my time at court, it still felt strange and informal to call the king by his given name. “If you do feel as though you might need a bit of a boost for tonight or for tomorrow’s…events,” I said, trying hard to choose a neutral turn of phrase, “you can add a few drops of this to your tea.” I turned to rummage through my valise before offering him a small brown bottle. “It’s a tonic of concentrated eleuthero root and schisandra berries. It will help keep your energy level up.”
“Do I seem fatigued to you?” he asked, grabbing fast at ameaning I’d not intended. He rubbed at the spot above his heart as if feeling for a sluggish pulse.
“Not at all, Your—René. I plan on taking some myself tomorrow. There are so many events. It will be good to have the extra vigor.”
The king frowned. “I suppose that’s true….”
“Is something else bothering you?” I asked carefully.
The king looked distant, lost in thought. “Nothing that you could provide a tonic for, I’m afraid.” His laugh rang sad. “I only wish it were so simple.”
