“What’s going to happen?” I feel my entire being shiver, and I can’t shake the look in the seeker’s eyes.
“The king will extract information.” He gives me a sidelong glance. “You’ve no need to worry.”
Of course I’m going to worry, but I don’t want to throw Anolius’s attempt at comfort back in his face, so I say, “All right.” Even though nothing is all right.
Sophina approaches, her steps quick, her eyes serious, and antennae dark. “I was summoned,” she says as she hurries past.
I don’t have a chance to explain what she’s walking into, so all I can do is call, “Be careful.”
“My lady.” Anolius opens the door to the consort’s chambers.
“Thank you again for what you did for my mother and me.” I glance at his bald pate.
He almost smiles, the corners of his lips twitching. “As long as my lady still finds me handsome, I’ll be fine.” Then he drops his voice to a whisper. “But don’t tell Solano. He’ll give me the same treatment the seeker is getting.”
“Our secret.” I nod, then go inside. Closing the door behind me, Anolius takes off with quiet steps back to the throne room.
Sinking into the closest chair, I rub my eyes. Seekers here, in the day realm. Whatever magic made this possible must’ve exacted a terrible price on Grimelda’s mother. And the enormity of it is too much for me to even conceive. Somehow, there are enough seekers in the night realm to cross the border and decimate entire villages of Daylanders. How does King Sigrid not know about this? Goosebumps rise along my arms when I wonder if King Sigrid is behind the attacks. He could be controlling the seekers, waging a quiet war against Solano. But why? What good is the day realm to him when most of his subjects can’t even survive here?
I jump when the door opens again, but it’s just Lucidia, her face drawn and oddly pale. “Where have you been?” I rise and hurry to her.
“Matters. Handling matters.” She looks me up and down. “Your hair isn’t brushed, and what are you wearing? Pants?” Her expression is scandalized.
“I sewed some pants from a skirt. They’re far more comfortable than all those flowy gowns.”
She shakes her head. “At least the king hasn’t seen you yet.”
I give a half smile.
Her grimace is almost painful. “Hehasseen this foolishness. Ancestors, help me. Come, you must change.” She bustles me into my closet and chooses a lavender gown.
“Are you going to tell me where you’ve been? I was worried.” I let her fuss over me, simply because I’m glad to see her.
She sits me down at the vanity and starts brushing out my wavy hair. “I’ve been doing the king’s bidding on some other matters.”
“What other matters?”
“None of your concern.”
I reach up and still her hand. “You can tell me. I’m not blind. I see the strain you’re under. You’re drained.”
She sighs and pulls away, continuing to brush my hair. Her strokes might be considered rough, but compared to my mother, she’s as gentle as a newborn foal.
“I’m not to speak of it. But I will say that I look ‘drained’ as you call it because I’ve used all my magic.” She holds up a hand, but no green healing sparks in her palm. “For days now.”
“Who’s hurt?”
“That horrid noble Caroldon brought misery to our door, more than I’ve seen in a long, long time. If the king would let me, I’d …” The vengeance in her voice fades as her words trail off. “Well, I don’t know what I’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty. Healing those poor changelings has drained Caltinius and me both again and again. They’re—”
“Changelings?” I turn.
She frowns. “Never you mind about that.”
“What changelings?”
With a forceful touch, she turns me back around and continues brushing my hair. “I’ve said too much. I’m tired. These things aren’t for you to—” She turns, her eyes narrowing.
“What?”
