Page 107 of Ruling the Green

“Letting it get infected won’t help you get back to your wife any sooner,” a woman with umber skin and a shaved head said as she approached. “Sit,” she demanded as she grabbed a basket full of little glass bottles that clinked together as she set it on a table.

“You look familiar,” I said, but couldn’t place her.

“I worked under your father’s healer when I was a girl. I had long braids back then.”

“Right. Yeah. Whatever happened to you?”

“The healer was treating a nasty wound once. He wasn’t making any progress. The man was going to die. I used a salve I made. He healed within two days. But I got fired for making him look bad. Is he still working for your father?”

“Yes,” I said, watching as she wet a small cloth with one of her tonics and started to clean my face.

“Will he be working for you?”

“If things go to plan, it seems like you might be.”

“Fair warning,” she said, dropping the rag and reaching for a thick salve in a jar, swiping it thickly on her finger. “I’m not for the weak.” She wiped the salve across my cut. It burned like fucking fire. Like when my sister grabbed my neck.

“Not fucking lying,” I said, sucking in a deep breath.

“Nope. But it will heal within a day. And you probably won’t scar.”

Another woman brought me some water as Mendalyn and I started to discuss her ideas for the royal guard and military—similar things to what I’d heard both Vishen and Nira say. Things I agreed with.

Maybe it was naive of me, but I felt better about the potential of having my own guard. It was comforting. Vishen hadn’t had nearly enough time to poke around in the ranks and see who was diehard for my father… and who was loyal to whoever the best ruler was.

These women would help insulate me from any of my father’s military who didn’t want things to change. That felt like the best possible position to be in as we moved through the last, most important, part of this process.

Getting my father off the throne.

By any means necessary.

Sometime later, the door flew open behind me, making me jump to my feet.

There were three women. Two of them supported the one in the center, whose ankle looked twice the size it should be.

“What happened?” the healer asked, rushing forward.

“Tried to avoid a flying arrow. Fell out of the tree.”

“That amount of swelling, it’s most likely broken. Looks like it’s bedrest for you for a few weeks.”

The woman grumbled but let herself be pulled over to a lower bunk.

“How is it out there?” Mendalyn asked.

“Calmer. The wounded dragged themselves out of there. There is still a mob outside the palace, but not enough to be a real threat to the royal guard and military. Though, with how fired up everyone is, I imagine the numbers will grow by morning. It could get rough.”

“So we move now,” Mendalyn said. She walked over to a cabinet that dominated a large chunk of the wall to the side. Inside was every kind of weapon you could imagine. And a shitton of arrows. She took a handful and put them in her quiver. “Ready?” she asked me.

“Yes.”

“Who is coming?” she asked, waiting for women to volunteer and then grab their weapons.

“Well,” Mendalyn said as we stepped out from under the weeping willow. “Let’s go get you your throne.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Serin