Page 146 of The Thirteenth Child
I looked down at my dress, wondering if the metallic threads could have somehow caused this. Or the inside of my mask. Or…
My eyes fell on Euphemia.
Little Euphemia, who had only moments before had her cheek pressed to mine.
Little Euphemia, all in black, without a speck of gold upon her.
Heart thudding with dread, I snatched the lace mask from her. She let out a cry of dismay and tried to grab her covering. As she struggled, three new streaks of Brilliance ran down her heated face.
Chapter 51
“I don’t understand,” the king said,repeating himself as he paced Euphemia’s chambers. “I don’t understand,I don’t understand!” His muttered recitation grew to a roar as I bent over the little princess, rearranging a cooling compress on her forehead.
After seeing the streaks of Brilliance, I’d quickly ushered Euphemia from the ballroom, all but hauling her over my shoulder to her suite, and sent word to King Marnaigne.
By the time he arrived, I’d gotten her out of the heavy ball gown and into a nightdress. I hoped she’d be able to breathe easier in the thin lawn shift, but still she gasped for air, eventually falling into a hazy stupor of grumbled protests.
Even in her daze, her fingers twitched at angles strange and taut, tapping out a relentless rhythm against her sparkling duvet. There was a tic along her left cheekbone, and her toes quivered restlessly.
Safe along the edges of the room, two of her lady’s maids fretted,wanting to help but terrified of catching the illness themselves. I longed to send them away, but the king held all authority.
“I’ve done everything right,” he went on, striking at the backs of chairs, grabbing throw pillows and flinging them across the room. “I won the war. I destroyed every threat to our realm. I’ve done everything the gods have asked of me, and this is how I’m repaid?”
He growled, striking out at a little side table and sending its potted fern flying through the air. The vase shattered against the marble tiles.
One of the maids jumped into action, trying to clear the debris before King Marnaigne could pace through it. One of the shards sank into her fingertip, and she winced as droplets of blood dotted the floor.
I pushed myself from the bed, but Marnaigne blocked my path, a finger stabbing at my chest. “Not till you fix my daughter!”
“She needs stitches,” I said, gesturing to the slick of blood.
“Then she can find assistance elsewhere!” He whirled on the maid. “Get out! Both of you, get out, and find somewhere else to be incompetent! You shan’t darken my house any more with your idiocy.”
The maid burst into tears as she fled the room, clutching her wounded hand to her chest. The second maid hurried after her, and I wanted to call after them, beg them to come back, because I was suddenly, horribly alone with the king.
He stood in the middle of the chaos he’d created, surveying the torn-apart room. His grim eyes fell upon Euphemia.
“It’s the Shivers, isn’t it?”
I swallowed, trying to find my voice. “I honestly don’t know. At first glance, it would seem so…but there are things in Euphemia’scase that I can’t explain, that don’t make sense. The Shivers starts off slowly—the muscle spasms, a dusting of Brilliance. But see how much is already coming out of her? She’s nearly coated in it.”
Marnaigne made a small pained noise of agreement.
“And she’s burning up,” I continued. “I’ve never seen patients with the Shivers have a fever. It could be a good sign…her body is fighting hard and strong…but her breathing…” As if on cue, Euphemia let out a harsh wheeze. “Itlookslike the Shivers, but it’s acting like something else entirely.”
Marnaigne sank into the nearest chair, like a marionette cut from its strings. The fury had left him, and he now seemed hollowed out, exhausted and grieved. “I’m being punished. Again.”
“Oh no, Your Majesty. The gods didn’t do this,” I said, instinctively reaching out to reassure him. Just before I touched his back, I noticed my hands were covered in Brilliance, and I quickly pulled away.
“They did,” he insisted. “They’re punishing me for something I’ve done. For my faults. For my sins. For…” He trailed off, his eyes distant as he searched for a reason. He scratched his scalp, tugging at the ends of his hair. His fingers were trembling, not with an onslaught of the Shivers but with building frustration. “What did I do to deserve this? What didshedo? She is an innocent. She couldn’t have…No. It must be something else. It’s a message for someone else.” He muttered something under his breath too hurried to catch, but I heard him repeat it. Once, then twice, then again, becoming a series, a litany, a plea.
“A message?” I echoed, trying to stop him from spinning into another burst of anger.
Marnaigne nodded fervently. “The gods are sending me a sign.Through Euphemia.” He rose suddenly, his eyes darting about the room. “Something in my house is not right. Something in my realm is not as it should be. There’s something I still need to do.”
I took a step away, giving him a wide berth, as one would a dangerous animal. “I don’t think that’s what’s—”
His gasp cut me off.
