“Hey!”I storm after him, right on his heels. “I asked you a question!”
Cygnus whips around. “Which I chose not to entertain.”
“What’s yourproblem? I haven’t done anything to make you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” he scoffs. “I hate that you’re here.In Crown City, a Healer is someone who attendeduniversity. It’s a title that takes years to earn. You might be the best apothecary in whatever little outwall village you grew up in, but our hospital has actual standards.”
“You haven’t given me a chance,” I protest as shame heats my face. “You can’t just decide I’m not capable.” His words wouldn’t sting if it weren’t for their undercurrent of truth. I can hear Mother’s voice in every word. My fists clench as the monster of my Talent grapples toward the surface, but I force it back down.
Stay calm.
“It’s not about capability, it’s about training. Which you lack.” Cygnus leans in. “Honestly, Leenia—”
“Lyria.”
“Right.” His eyes narrow. “Lyria. You want my advice? If I were you, I’d eat a nice big supper, enjoy your night in the palace, and go home tomorrow morning with a story to tell. Trust me. You would be better off.”
I can’t believe his dismissiveness. “Why?”
“Because the Crown’s favor is not the bulwark you think it is,” he snaps. “Warming Finn’s bed won’t protect you forever. I’ve known him my entire life. He likes to play with his girls and then drop them. In the meantime, I’m not putting lives in danger because the prince can’t keep it in his pants.Understood ?”
He doesn’t wait for my objections before turning away.
Thank the Gods for small miracles.
He’s gone before I start to cry.
y chambers are predictably plush. After drying my tears, I take inventory: a big four-poster bed draped with pastels, a desk, an empty bookshelf, a wardrobe, a closet, and a huge marble fireplace wafting sweet-smelling pine smoke. My scant belongings have been laid on the bed. They look out of place amid the silk and velvet: too shabby and devoid of color. I notice my satchel has been cleaned and emptied…in other words, searched. When I start to unpack, I realize the futility.
My wardrobe is already overflowing with garments that look like they’ve been stitched specifically for me. Marveling, I withdraw dress after dress, each more luxurious than the last. There are outfits for all seasons: garden frocks and evening gowns, day dresses with fluffy skirts and sleeves looped withribbons. I find a dark blue winter cloak with fur trim and six pairs of shoes, including several sparkling pairs of slippers. The closet drawers contain several new work dresses in soft, fine-woven linen, and I’m relieved to see that my uniform includes a white kerchief. When I open the bottom drawer, I encounter a heap of sheer, short, lacy undergarments…and quickly slam it back shut.
The best part is my washroom. It has hot running water and a claw-foot tub, something I’ve ardently fantasized about but never actually seen. After some experimenting, I figure out how to fill it. When I sink into the steaming water, I decide it’s the single most decadent thing I’ve ever experienced.
After bathing, I pull on the most subdued pair of pajamas I can find and crawl into the sheets. But sleep doesn’t find me. I’m too busy strategizing for the day ahead. Cygnus had a lot of Gods-damn nerve calling me unqualified, considering he’s onlyoneyear my senior. Unless he started studying in diapers, I can’t be that far behind. I may not have had a fancy royal education, but I hadMother’sscrutiny to contend with, and I’m willing to bet that was about a hundred times stricter.
Determination roars through me. Mother told me that when she started school at the High Houses, some other students looked down on her because of her upbringing in the Ironwoods. Elves came from all over the Midlands to study at the Evermorean universities, but even back then, it was considered more sophisticated to grow up in the Hartlands. She had one strategy for overcoming their bias:Be so good they can’t dismiss you.So that’s exactly what I’ll do.
And when I find the cure, no one will ever doubt me again.
My first night in the castle is restless torture. I jolt awake at every chime of the clock, panicking and slick with sweat. At five, I crawl out of bed and draw another bath to brace for the day ahead. I’m sure it will be a long one.
Upon my arrival at the hospital, it takes a few minutes to be directed to Cygnus’s office. I find him hunched over his desk. Determined to be the bigger person, I greet him as cheerily as I can. “Good morning!”
He doesn’t look up from his papers. “You’re late.”
I glance at the clock in annoyance. He’s correct—by two minutes. At least he and Mother would get along.
“Last night, we had six wounded soldiers brought in from Karapesh in Sontaag, so I won’t have time to onboard you this morning,” he continues. “Anna will show you the ropes.”
“Who’s Anna?” I ask.
He gestures vaguely down the hall. “She’s our head of staff. You can find her in the storehouse. Big woman, curly brown hair. You can’t miss her.”
“Is she my boss, or are you?”
“She’s second-in-command. If you do something to upset Anna, you’ve done something to upset me. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” I return, with some bite. “Do you need any help with the soldiers? If there’s any way I can assist…” I trail off as he finally looks up at me, and I read his expression. The acidity could wither daisies.
