True though her words were, I understood Lord Balik’s anger. Understood the frustration of anyone we’d kept secrets from.
Halladora had wanted an apology, which I thought brave of her, considering that she was under my command, but she wasn’t the only one. Sian, too, had demanded answers. Hadquestions. Of course I’d given them both whatever information I could.
And finally there was Thordur, who had watched me place a shadow wrap on his father’s leg. After his father had been placed in the healers’ sanctuary, he’d sought me out too. Bavirra at his side.
Others who’d seen had not approached me, but instead spoke to Sian or Vale, two trusted warriors. They had been sworn to secrecy for the time being, and Vale assured me that it wasn’t many fae. Our forces had been separated from the larger battle, and life-threatening situations had a way of keeping fae focused on the fight in front of their faces.
When we reached the castle sanctuary it was quiet. Peaceful. Thank the stars for that. After returning to Myrr, the place had been a madhouse, the healers frantically seeing to the injured, others helping wherever they could.
I scanned the front room, the less private portion of the sanctuary where healers brewed potions and performed other tasks related to their work. On the right side of the vast space was a large wooden carving of the eight-spoked wheel and four stars, the symbol of the healing goddess. No healers were readily available.
“Hello?” I called out, not wishing to go wandering and earn a healer’s ire.
“A moment!” someone replied from a private office reserved for the more senior healers. A short time later, none other than a Master Healer appeared.
She blinked when she saw us and hurried over, only to fall into a deep curtsey. Her white chain necklace, complete with the healers’ wheel, swung in the air. I’d learned from Rynni that a Master Healer needed only to wear the white chains, but they often added the wheel and stars to their attire to please their dead god.
“Princesses, I apologize for keeping you waiting.” The Master Healer was far younger than the one I’d met previously. With dark raven-wing hair and a youthful vigor about her, I doubted that she was even a century old.
“No apologies are necessary.” My cheeks warmed.
No longer was I unused to being called a princess, or others showing me deference, but when someone like this, someone who had worked tirelessly for turns to achieve a great title and to whom I owed quite a lot, and would likely keep owing with a war on the horizon, paid me the courtesy of my title, it always felt a bit silly.
“Has Rynni flown off already?” the healer asked.
“She has. Everyone is safely aboard her back,” I assured her. This healer had been one of the fae to patch the dwarves up enough so they would survive the flight.
“She was such a help to us. Astounding mind, that one.”
“We were hoping to speak to the King of Dergia,” Thyra cut in. “Is he awake?”
The healer smiled, and I sensed a fondness for the king that I could relate to. “I’ll show you to his room.”
We followed her to the far back of the expansive sanctuary, to a private room, as befit a king. She stopped at his door and knocked.
“Yes?” King Tholin’s voice came through the wood.
The Master Healer poked her head inside the room. “Princess Isolde and Princess Thyra are here to speak with you.” She cast a glance at our Valkyrja. “Possibly others too?”
“Just us,” Thyra said. “Our guard will wait outside.”
“Let them in.”
The Master Healer opened the door and waved us through. Thyra went first, but I paused and leaned closer to the healer.
“Is Filip well?” I hadn’t dared ask to see the heir to the southlands. Not when his father was still so furious with us.
“He was moved to his own quarters this morning. Two healers are by his door, but I doubt he’ll call for them. The lad is feeling fine and has never been one to have others pander to him.”
“Thank you.” I made a split decision to ask another question. One that had been weighing on me since we’d inadvertently freed King Érebo. “Do you see many babies born in the castle?”
The healer blinked at the odd question. “A few. Three were born in the last two weeks, a set of twins and a single youngling, all to servants.”
I had a hunch that the Shadow King had been helping to strengthen the blight by pushing his darkness into the network of Drassil trees—a great source of magic. When my family had fallen from power, the blight had gotten worse, maybe because Magnus had not known of the darkness woven into our realm. Maybe because King Magnus hadn’t had the proper tools to protect the kingdom. Or perhaps he was simply too weak or not favored by the Faetia to keep the magic balanced.
“Those babes were born without issue?” I asked, not wishing to get too deep into my theories with a healer I didn’t know.
“Yes.”
