“Why did you choose me, Your Majesty?” It’s the most honest question I’ve let myself ask, one that’s troubled me since I opened Finn’s letter. “There are any number of apothecaries and Healers in the kingdom. You could have summoned anyone.”
She reaches out and takes my hands. The intimacy feels bizarre, but I manage not to recoil. Her bright blue eyes search mine, completely earnest. “Because you had the courage to help a total stranger. Do you know how rare that kind of heart is? You are a very special girl, Lyria. Experience comes to everyone with time, butcharacteris born.” Her hands squeeze mine. “You proved yourself to Finneas, and I trust my son’s judgment. Inthis, our direst of hours, I have faith that you’ll prove yourself to me, too.”
Something unlatches in my chest. As the queen’s words wash over me like summer sun, they rouse some shred of self-belief that I long ago buried. Has she really just summoned me because shebelieves I can do it? Is it really so impossible that the queen sees me as I see myself…as someone far more capable than I’ve ever been given credit for?
I ask, “What exactly do you need me to do?” I feel, finally, as bold as I sound.
“For months now, the king and I have been fighting to contain a terrible plague that we believe was created as a weapon by our enemies in Ursandor,” she explains, her voice dropping into a hush. “This disease is a horror like nothing our Healers have ever seen. It kills indiscriminately. We don’t know how it spreads. What wedoknow is that it can wipe whole villages off the map. If it were to reach Crown City, the fallout would be catastrophic. There wouldn’t be enough able-bodied to bury the dead.”
“That sounds horrific.”
“It is. Itwillbe.” Her voice wobbles. “We’vegotto stop it, or else it could kill everyone in Verdinae.” For the first time, Queen Davina actually looks vulnerable. “We’ve managed to keep the disease from spreading by implementing a strict quarantine on the infected area. We’ve got hundreds of soldiers dispatched to enforce it; we’re doing everything we can, but we won’t be able to hold it back forever. We need a cure.”
My head whirls, finally making sense of Mother’s plans. If she heard about a quarantine zone where people were dying, she’d absolutely want to investigate—and the delay must be because she is still working out a cure.
I’ll beat her to it.
My body tingles at the prospect. Can I do it? I begged my mother for an opportunity to prove myself. And here, the most spectacular of opportunities has walked through my door. I can’t deny the serendipity.
“I understand.” I nod to the queen. “I can travel to the village and start working immediately.”
“Oh, no. That isn’t possible.” She withdraws her hands.
My brow furrows. “Why not?”
“As I said, we’ve implemented a strict quarantine. It won’t be necessary for you to travel into the infected region. Our previous apothecary was working intently on developing a cure before his passing. We’ve been assured he was on the brink of a breakthrough. All you should need to do is dot thei’s and cross thet’s, so to speak.”
A new wave of doubt washes over me. How can I cure something I can’t study?But the queen’s expression leaves no room for argument.
She goes on. “We’ll put you up in the tower in the East Wing. There’s a comfortable chamber I hope you’ll find to your liking. Officially, you’ll be titled the royal apothecary, and you can assist our Head Healer if he has any pressing matters he needs you to attend to. But you’ll report your work on the cure directly to me. You’ll have every resource at your disposal. If there’s an ingredient you need, or a tool we can source for you…one word, and I’ll see that it’s done.”
My chest swirls with inadequacy. Perhaps Queen Davina knows it, because she reaches out and cups my face with her palm. I shiver.
“I know that this work is a massive burden for anyone to carry. But I would not ask it of you if I didn’t believe you were capable.” Her eyes shine. “Nothing happens for nothing. The Almighty put you in my son’s life for a reason. I believe it’s because you were born to do this work.”
Her confidence triggers a swell of hope. I stammer out my reply. “I—I don’t think I can make any promises, but I can do my best, Your Majesty.”
“That’s all we ask. Thank you, Lyria.Thankyou. Brave, clever girl.” She kisses my forehead. “You are a gift from the Almighty.”
A door clicks behind us, and her gaze dips. “Ah, Cygnus, here you are. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
I turn to find a tall man striding toward us. He’s dressed in dark pants, boots, and a shabby white long-sleeve coat rolled up to his elbows. His jaw is stubbled, but his features are youthful—a round face, full lips, and delicate cheekbones. He can’t be much older than I am, but there’s something weary about his appearance, like he’s exhausted by life already.
“Lyria, this is Cygnus, our Head Healer,” says the queen.
I meet his gaze. I notice the peculiar color of his eyes—an intense, icy blue. Something dances in them that I can’t place. Disdain? Curiosity?
“Cygnus is one of ourverybest and brightest,” she continues. “Cygnus, you’ll be happy to hear we’ve located a new apothecary to fill Ragglestaff’s post. This is Lyria Fletcher—all the way from the Ironwood Mountains.”
“I’m delighted to meet you, Lyria.” Cygnus bows, sounding far from delighted.
“I’ve asked the servants to prepare Ragglestaff’s old chambers,” the queen says. “I was hoping you could give her a tour of the castle and help make her comfortable.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Another bow.
Then, without another word, Cygnus heads swiftly for the door.
I have to scramble to catch up. Just before exiting, I whip around and jerk another curtsy. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I won’t let you down!”
