15. Irina

Chapter fifteen

Irina

H ours later, I stumbled through the Palace gates, headed home.

I was numb, yet my mind was somehow spinning and dazed at the same time.

When it was clear the Queen would not rise, I had stepped back and allowed the King to grieve. If I lived a thousand years, I hoped to never see such anguish again. Servants wept. Tears even streaked down the faces of a few of the stone-faced guards.

High Chancellor Wilton and High Sheriff Wien arrived sometime later. The Palace had been sealed, and every servant, maid, and guard working that night was questioned. The Chancellor focused on the kitchen staff, while the Sheriff remained in the dining room with the King. Two Constables I hadn't seen enter ushered the staff away from the scene to be questioned.

The mournful tolling of a bell high above the Palace brought the King's head up.

"So soon?" he asked no one in particular.

Sheriff Wien, a tall man with brackish hair and a stern jaw, kneeled beside his King. "Tradition, Majesty. Nothing more. Your people will want to mourn with you."

King Melric nodded.

I could see his eyes. They stared but did not see.

When the King remained quiet, Sheriff Wien stood and turned to me. "Lady Healer, may we speak?"

I curtsied, unsure of the proper etiquette when standing before a noble, a King, and a fallen Queen. "Of course, my lord. Should we go—"

He motioned to the table. "Here will do. The King should hear what you have to say."

I thought that might've been the cruelest thing I'd ever heard. The King was a husband. At least, he had been a husband. Now, he sat slumped on the floor, little more than a shell of himself, refusing to release his wife's hand. How could anyone think to demand statecraft of him then?

That was the moment the enormity of the situation sank in.

In my first audience, it was impossible to ignore the awe of standing before the royal couple, of striding the marbled halls where men and women of history lived and crafted the future. Then, in a few brief hours, in the private residence of a husband and wife, I came to see my rulers as people, not merely symbols of greatness. I began, if only a little, to forget the crowns that rested so heavily on their brows, and thought of them as a kind, warm couple who welcomed me into their home.

As the High Sheriff of the Kingdom of Spires, in his black cloak adorned with golden braid, sat across the table and stared, I felt as tiny and insignificant as any commoner to kneel at the foot of the throne.

"You were dining with the King and Queen this evening?" Sheriff Wien's voice was firm but not unkind.

I nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"And you saw the Queen fall?"

I nodded again.

"You tried to revive her?"

"I used my magic, more than I ever have, but . . . nothing worked." I bit back a sob. "She was dead before I could help her. I tried. Truly, I did."

The Sheriff surprised me by reaching across the table and taking my hand. His grip was gentle, and when I looked up, his eyes were soft. "We know you did, my lady."

I squeezed my eyes shut and drew in a breath, not realizing I squeezed his hand as I did.

"Could you tell how she died? Would your magic tell you that?" he asked, freeing his hand and leaning back.

I wiped a tear from my cheek and met his gaze. "I don't need magic to know she was poisoned; but yes, my magic also confirmed it. I could See into her body."

"Really?" He stared. "What did you see inside her?"

I hesitated. I'd treated hundreds of patients, if not more, but I had never seen poison like that. I'd never seen anything like that.

"It looked . . . it's hard to explain . . . like a blackness seeping through her veins . . . like tar oozing where blood should flow. I know that doesn't make much sense, but that's what it looked like."

"Could you tell what kind of poison it was?"

I shook my head. "I have no idea. It was unlike anything I've ever seen."

"We will need a thorough examination. I believe the Queen would choose you to perform such, were she here."

I closed my eyes again, and tried to keep my heart from shattering into a hundred pieces. How could they ask this of me? I knew it was my role, and the Queen and I had begun to understand one another, but still . . .

"Whatever the King needs," I said, unable to think clearly.

Motion brought all eyes to the King as he stood and addressed the Sheriff. "Let the girl go home, Byron. I leave my lady wife"—his words faltered—"in your care."

The Sheriff bowed toward his King, then said to me, "One of the Palace guards will escort you to the Medica."

"I'll be all right—"

He raised a palm. "Tonight, accept our escort, please."

I curtsied as he motioned to one of the guards and instructed the man to walk me home.

The next day, I returned to the Palace to examine the Queen. I insisted Master Rist accompany me. Despite my rising power, he outmatched me by a lifetime in knowledge and experience. Besides, Rist was a comforting presence, a calmness in the turbulent sea that was the royal court.

The Queen had been poisoned. Of that, there could be no doubt. If what I had seen with my magic was not confirmation enough, the blackening of her tongue we found during our examination removed all uncertainty.

But how?

Royal guards stood watch as the kitchen staff prepared each meal. Every plate set on the royal table passed through two separate tasters, one in the kitchen before the food left, and another outside the dining room. They were kept separate and observed by different guards to eliminate any possibility of collusion.

"Tell me about the dinner," Rist said as we watched priestesses wrap the Queen's body in white cloth.

I walked my Master through the evening. He insisted I recount each course, every refilling of wine, every new place setting laid before us. My memory was normally strong, but who thinks to memorize the servings of a dinner?

Then something occurred to me.

"Master, I ate the same food from the same platters, yet I showed no sign of poison." I stood and paced across the chamber. "I didn't experience dizziness or quickening of my heart. I showed no signs of perspiration. Those were symptoms I observed in the Queen as she collapsed. She gripped her chest, and when I attended her, her skin was clammy and wet. Now that I think about it, the King suffered no symptoms, either."

"What are you thinking, Irina?"

"I . . . I don't know. Why would anyone want to kill the Queen? She wielded significant influence, but the King rules. Perhaps someone tried to kill him and poisoned the wrong glass or plate."

Rist gripped his chin and tapped a finger against his lips. "Do you think Kels? or one of the other Mages could help us identify the poison? At least that would give us a place to start."

I sat beside him again, rested my head against the back of the chair, and stared into the ceiling. The thought of seeing Kels? again was pleasant enough, but there was no way to know if she would be the Mage they would send.

The Master was right. We needed help.

With a groan, I rolled my head to look at him. "Kels? taught me how to reach out to her. I'll try when we get back to the Medica."

In the days that followed, I hid in my chamber in the infirmary, avoiding all but the most critical of patients. Master Rist pleaded with me to come out, to help with patients, to talk. Still, I kept to myself, grappling with what I'd seen in the Palace.

On the fourth day following the Queen's murder, a knock and an unfamiliar voice sounded at my chamber door.

"Irina," a rich, deep voice called. "I am Mage Danai Thorn. Kels? and Johann sent me to help you. We had nothing to do with the attack on the Queen. We are very sorry. Please let me in."

I bolted across the room and threw the door open, banging its handle against the stone wall.

"How do you know about the Queen's death?" I glared up at the man, fists balled against my hips. My hair was wild, my eyes red, and I was still in my night clothes from the prior evening.

"You met Johann. He has been close to the King for many years. They have ways of communicating." He raised both hands in surrender. "And they did ring the bell rather loudly."

I slammed the door in his face.

The knock sounded again.

I stood there glaring, as if my ire could frighten the man away.

Moments of silence passed, long enough for me to believe the Mage had left me alone, when Light flared in the corner of my room. When the brilliance faded, the man, Danai, appeared. Straight black hair was pulled tightly behind his head and tied with black ribbon. He looked young, twenty or so winters. To my credit, I didn't startle—just looked up with sad, tired eyes.

"I asked you to leave me alone. Do you Mages ever listen to anyone but yourselves?"

"That is a fair assessment of our brothers and sisters. There is no sound they love so much as the tones of their own voices."

I glared, then pointed to a chair by my desk. As Danai settled into the uncomfortable seat, his navy robe spreading across the floor, I retreated across the room and sat on the corner of my bed.

"You called it an attack . No one has determined how the Queen died. What aren't you telling me, Mage ?"

I spat that last word. Danai flinched.

He surveyed my room. Clothes lay strewn about. Only two candles remained with any wax or wick, while others' lives had dribbled and puddled across my desk. Two uneaten meals on tin trays sat on one side of the room, giving off a faint stench.

He waved a finger, and the discarded trays vanished. With another wave, soiled clothing disappeared, and wax reformed into perfectly round candles. A ball of Mage Light appeared, giving the room a cool illumination.

I watched but said nothing.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

I eyed him, then shook my head.

"Are you hungry?"

Reluctantly, I nodded.

A new tray appeared on the desk. It held a bowl of soup, a fist-sized loaf, and a pitcher filled with water. Danai poured water into the glass, then rose, strode across the room, and handed it to me.

I stared up at him for a moment before accepting the glass and taking a sip.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you care?"

He pulled the chair from behind my desk and sat facing me. "Because we—Johann, Kels?, and I—are not like the others. We were not part of their plan, and only learned of their actions earlier today. Because we believe those given great power have a responsibility to do good, to help those without. Because our hearts break at the thought of what you—and the King—must be suffering right now."

"What plan? That's twice you've made it sound like you know what happened, like the Queen was murdered."

There were only a handful of people in the entire Kingdom who knew that the Queen was poisoned. I doubted Mages were among the King's inner circle, though Danai's reference to the Grand Mage and his closeness to the King made me wonder. Still, it had only been days, and I needed to hear him answer.

"She was." His voice was ice.

I managed to draw in a breath and look into Danai's unflinching eyes.

"She was your friend." It wasn't a question.

I nodded.

"She was killed because she was your friend ."

My breath caught. "Spirits. Why?"

I clutched the glass so tightly my knuckles whitened.

"They are sending you a message. Join us, or this will happen to everyone you love. Irina, you are a new Mage, a wild card, if you will. The balance among our number is . . . tenuous. We each felt your well of power when you were born. It was like seeing a stone tossed into a pond. When you manifested—when you Healed your Master—that felt like an entire mountain hit the water's surface."

My eyes moistened, and I swatted away tears before they could betray me. "I still don't understand. What does that have to do with—"

"Listen to me. They want your power added to theirs to tip the scales. You are stronger . . . you are very strong. They will stop at nothing to bring you to heel."

"But . . . the Queen?"

He nodded. "The Queen first. Next could be your Master or the other apprentices. They could destroy the Medica. And then there are your parents."

My fingers lost their grip on the glass; it clattered to the floor. My eyes darted around the room, as if some corner of the chamber might offer solace. I gasped for breath, and the world closed in around me.

Danai dropped to his knees before me and reached up to grip my shoulders. I tried to pull away, but the last vestige of my strength fled, and I fell into his embrace.

He held me as I wept.

"Irina, some of us wish to help you, to teach you. Others want you contained. You will need more than Healing to protect yourself and those you care about." He pulled back and searched my eyes. "Please, let me help you."