“Right now,” he says, “the most helpful thing you can do is disappear.”
I leave with my face burning.
When I track down Anna, I’m relieved to find her far more welcoming. A direct, no-nonsense woman, she reminds me of a taller version of Mother. She only asks a few questions about my competencies before launching into a straightforward explanation of the hospital’s operations. “The Crown fundseverything, so there’s no cost for our patients. People travel from all over to get treated—that’s why we’re practically always full. We might see hundreds of patients in a single month.”
“How have you functioned without an apothecary?”
“Oh, our medicine for patients is imported from Sulnik,” she clarifies. “Your predecessor, Ragglestaff, was brought on to serve theCrown. Not the public. He pitched in here and there when we needed extra hands, of course. But even toward the end, he was busy with private projects.”
My spirits sink a little. I’d been looking forward to the opportunity to test my skills. But of course, the cure needs to come first. Perhaps when I’m finished, I can speak with the queen about weaning the people here off their reliance on Sulish medicine.
Anna gives me a quick tour of the staging area before leading me out onto a patio. We follow a stone path down through the hospital’s designated terraces, which contain rows and rows of waist-high planter boxes. The plants look wild and unkempt, but I spot a host of familiar friends, like yarrow and calendula. “Did Ragglestaff tend these?”
“Once upon a time, yes. Most of it’s gone wild now. Pretty to look at, but no one here knows how to use them.”
I drag my hand over a patch of yarrow. The heads have dried and gone rough. “That seems like a waste.”
“Indeed. But we’ve been stuffed to the gills. With all that inflow from the western front, resources are spread thin.” She continues down the terraced steps until we stop before a small, thatched-roof cottage. “I should warn you, the storehouse has been somewhat neglected. It’s a bit of a mess.”
She pushes open the door.
First, the smell hits me—chemicals and carrion. As we venture in with tentative steps, I decide she was too kind when she called this place a mess.Cesspoolmight cover it. The placelooks like it’s been ransacked. Rubbish and broken bottles are strewn across the floor. Several cauldrons have tipped, their contents leaking and rotting in some places. The scant equipment looks rusted beyond repair. Pinching my nose, I ask, “How long has it been like this?”
“A few months or so?” She covers her nose with her apron. “I didn’t realize how bad it’d gotten. We’ve been under strict instructions not to touch anything.”
We hurry out, gulping fresh air when the door shuts behind us.
I’m itching to start, but the tour is not over yet. Anna leads me back inside and into the hospital’s main washroom, which smells heavenly in contrast. The walls are lined with shelves of glass bottles labeled in black script. This must be the imported medicine she mentioned.
I’m ready to head back to the storehouse, but before I can do so, Anna hands me a list. “Cygnus left a list of jobs he’d like you to complete.”
I glance down, skimming quickly—
•Wash laundry in hamper #8
•Fold bandages in hamper #3
•Fold sheets in hamper #4
•Change all chamber pots on the staging floor
•Scrub the laundry room floor
•Dust the bookshelf in the Head Healer’s office
—and look up incredulously when I finish. “These are common chores.”
Anna tuts at my expression. “Everyone needs to start somewhere!”
When Anna leaves me to my work, I curse Cygnus internally. I should have known he’d try to sabotage me. He made it clearhe thinks I was only hired as a glorified consort—maybe he thinks I’m some prissy nobleman’s daughter who’ll refuse to get dirt under her fingernails. Or maybe his aim is to make me so busy that I can’t complete the work. Perhaps he thinks I’ll go whining to Finn. It doesn’t matter. He picked the wrong girl to underestimate. If he wants to make me his maid, I’ll be the best damn maid he’s ever seen.
I tackle the most distasteful task first. It takes two hours to empty the chamber pots, including the trek up and down stairs, three hours to fold laundry, and an inestimably long stint in purgatory while scrubbing the floor of the staging room. Irritation doesn’t bode well for my Talent. I start sweating in the first five minutes, trying to keep it at bay, and can’t stop. By midday, I’m an aching, sticky mess with shit stains on my apron. Staff members snicker behind my back.
Still, I work quickly and hard, racing the clock to return to the storehouse. I complete the stupid list a little after three, which leaves just a few hours to get started on cleaning Ragglestaff’s mess. I’m so focused on my real work, it’s not until Cygnus clears his throat that I realize he has been watching me.
“Oh. Hi. Sorry, I was just—” I gesture at the mess. “How did it go? With the soldiers, I mean.”
“Everyone’s stable.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I was just checking to see if you’re settling in.”
