“Why would you think that?”Werescued Minoak. We brought him here to recover. And we’re attempting to restore him to the throne of her home country. We’re on the same side, yet she swipes beneath her eyes and shoves past me, shaking her head with disgust.
I want to grab her long cattail hair and yank her back. Call out her ingratitude. But as I watch her storm away, I think about what Serik said—how worried and overwhelmed and afraid she must be—so I take a deep breath and limp after her.
I can be the bigger person. I can bridge this gap.
“Wait!” I call.
She hesitates before turning. “What?”
“I recognize how difficult all of this must be for you. We arrived with a lot of somber news. I don’t blame you for resenting us.”
She waves a dismissive hand. “I’m just grateful my brother and niece are alive. And I’d like to ensure they stay that way.”
“We’re united in that purpose.”
“Are we?” Yatindra challenges.
Her skepticism makes me want to scream. “Yes! And it would be considerably easier if your husband didn’t oppose our propositions to King Ihsan.”
She scoffs. “You’re missing the entire point.” Then she turns in a whirl of black hair and turquoise fabric and strides away.
I mumble curses at her back. What more does she expect us to do? She’s even more impossible than Ziva.
I stomp back to the infirmary, my bad leg throbbing painfully—and for nothing. I extended an olive branch, I tried to put myself out there, and Yatindra spat in my face.
At least I can tell Serik I tried.
Inside the infirmary, I jump at the sudden surge of darkness. Only two jars of lightning bugs illuminate the space, giving the night plenty of shadowed corners to occupy. The threads welcome me with nips and nuzzles as they usher me down the long hall. Rope beds line the walls and incense sticks burn on little golden plates, filling the air with cinnamon and orange smoke, but it isn’t enough to overwhelm the fetid tang of sickness.
A few of the beds are occupied with Namagaans—some resting with their eyes closed, others moaning and tossing with pain—but I make my way to the end of the hall, where two orange-clad sentries stand watch over a bed that’s finer than the rest. The frame is made of wood, the mattress is stuffed with feathers, and a sumptuous scarlet blanket covers the gray-haired figure underneath.
The guards jump to attention when they notice me and position themselves between me and King Minoak, spears crossed like bars. “Visitors aren’t permitted,” one of them says.
“I know for a fact that he just had a visitor.” I point to the door Yatindra exited.
“She’s the king’s sister.”
“And I am his subject.” I gesture to my dark hair and golden skin and tattooed calves, which indisputably mark me as Verdenese. “I’m the one who rescued him and brought him here.”
“Unfortunately, we cannot permit anyone other than the royal family near His Majesty.”
“By whose decree?” My voice quickly rises. “I just want to talk to him. It’s important. I’m responsible for so many—”
“It isn’t possible. He’s not even awake.”
“I have to see him!” It feels like my head has been shoved into the swamp and my lungs are screaming for air. I hadn’t realized how desperately I needed to see my king until now. When it’s being denied. The hovering threads of darkness pull taut and shiver against my fingers. Prodding. Ready. “Please!” I beg.
The other patients gape over at us, and the healer bustling between their beds looks ready to throw his instrument tray at my head.
“Go!” The guards thrust their spears at my face. I have to make a choice: concede and retreat or blacken the entire infirmary and do as I please.
I know what Iwantto do, but being belligerent won’t foster trust and convince King Ihsan to join us. And there’s no reason to force my agenda if King Minoak isn’t awake to hear what I have to say.
The agitated tendrils of darkness nip at my cheek.Why must he be awake to receive your message?
“Fine,” I say to the guards, making a show of tramping back the way I came. After they slam the door behind me, I noiselessly sneak back around the building and situate myself beneath the rear windows of the infirmary, where Minoak rests.
I wrap myself in shadows, perch on a branch near the window—which is open to let in fresh air—and summon the threads of darkness from the room. I may not be able to speak to my king in a traditional sense, but that doesn’t mean I can’t express my worries and needs. Plant the seeds of our rebellion while he sleeps, so when he finally does wake, he’ll think the ideas were his own.
