She held out her head. Wind and water. Blood is so much water. And breath is just the wind in our lungs. She thought hard on these things, willing blood to still and stop seeping, for all the forces in him to obey her.
There was a strangled gasp, and then she lowered her hand. Cole breathed greedily and touched his dry, rapidly scabbing-over lip. “That was useful—but I guess you have to be quick about it,” he gagged out, choking on air.
“Be grateful it wasn’t a bigger wound, or I’d be healing you in small doses,” Jocasta muttered. “Will the king be visiting me tonight?”
“No, he wishes to let you rest, unless you invite him in.” Cole’s eyes flickered ever so slightly over her figure, and she felt her cheeks burn. “He will always be honored to attend to you. You are now his most valuable ally,” he whispered, and bowed himself out of the room.
Jocasta stared at the door after he left.
“Herrick?” she called.
The door popped open, and the red-headed giant addressed her with a quick, “Yes, miss?”
“Are you going to stand there all night?”
“Yes.”
“When will you sleep?”
“Later.”
She rolled her eyes. That was hardly the answer she had in mind. “There are guards all over the walls. Caledon hasn’t gone to war in years.”
“Would you rather attack a heavily guarded king or an undefended one?” he pointed out reasonably.
That was Girion’s way. Guard heavily. Be ready. Plan and prepare. The palace was a fortress. Everyone, or at leastnearlyeveryone she had ever met, was loyal and sang the praises of the king, and aside from complaints about the growing cold, enjoyed the kingdom as a whole.
He must be doing something right.
I pray I do not ruin it.
Any thoughts that she had about the look they’d shared alone on the tundra fled from her imagination. There wasn’t anything tender or wistful in his gaze. Couldn’t be. His heart was as much a fortress as his city. She might be allowed to live in the palace, but she was never going to get inside his heart.
THE HOT BATH AND WARMbed after the oddest day of her life lulled Jocasta to sleep, and trays of fruit and bread woke her up far later than she would have allowed herself back home.
Home.
Parents.
Maybe they were busy with new hires to train, new joy in their hearts.
Or perhaps they were huddled together, their house silent and empty.
“Are there any fishmongers in Tundra Springs?” she mused aloud.
“Three, miss, the one in Polar Square, the one in Great Larch Circle, and the one in Churchman’s Alley. I wouldn’t go to that one, miss.”
Jocasta swallowed a gasp as Herrick answered. “You should be asleep!”
“When you are up and in the presence of my relief, I will sleep. Would you like fresh fish, miss?”
“No, no. I was only wondering.”Wondering if my parents could hire someone to run their shop back home, and if they could run a shop here. Perhaps I could sneak away and help.
Oh yes, a Queen gutting fish in the middle of Tundra Springs, how lovely.
But Tundra Springs was lovely, indeed, or at least what she’d seen of it in the dark and heard of in lessons at school. She hurried to pull open the drapes and gaze out at the city—and instead she found herself gazing out at pines. A lake.
A bear.
