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Glow (The Plated Prisoner #4)(110)

Author:Raven Kennedy

All I can do is gape as I try to take it all in, my mind not quite believing my eyes. “How…?”

“We have been waiting for you, Your Majesty.”

I rear back, looking between the two of them before my gaze hooks into Pruinn. “Did you know they were here? That this would happen?”

“I knew that we would find something,” he says before tapping on the pocket of his coat where I can see a hint of the rolled-up map. “I always trust my magic.”

Bewildered, I look back at the twins. My hands automatically run down my wrinkled, stained dress. They’re standing here looking fresh, while I’m begrimed and sloppy, my normally perfect hair a tangled twist at the back of my head. “Why were you waiting for me?”

They share a look, matching grins gathering on their faces. “Because we have prayed to the gods for a rightful heir of Orea to help us restore Seventh Kingdom to glory, and they brought us you.”

My mind snags on his words, a jolt of hope burgeoning from my weary limbs. “What are you talking about?”

Fassa comes forward and gently takes hold of my palm, like a noble would just before kissing it for good graces. He doesn’t raise my hand to his mouth though, and instead holds it, his own hands feeling far too warm.

Or perhaps I’m far too cold.

“You are the answer to our prayers, Your Majesty. You are the queen this land needs. You coming here proves it.”

“Proves what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, his dark eyes sparkling with hope. “You’re going to be the queen who saves Seventh Kingdom.”

CHAPTER 32

AUREN

“It looks very good, my lady.”

Hojat gives me a cursory tap on my shoulder, letting me know I can sit up, since he already buttoned up the borrowed shirt along my spine.

“How much longer do you think I need to have the salves put on me?” I ask as I sit up, feeling only slight discomfort pull at my back.

“Not much longer, I think. You are healing quite fast.”

“On the outside, maybe,” I mutter. “Thank you, Hojat.”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye, and I can see him hesitating for a moment until he turns back around to face me, his leather satchel strung over his shoulder. “My lady, I have not known you very long, but I know you through your wounds, I think.”

I don’t know how to take that comment for a moment until he taps at his dragged down skin, the left side of his face like candle wax melted and then cooled, left there to droop. “People with scars, we know. We see. We understand.” He taps his wilted eye next. “There is hurt past this, yes?”

My mouth goes dry. “Yes.”

He nods, hand dropping down to hang at his side. “I can heal your body, my lady. But my tonics and salves won’t heal your mind, I’m afraid. It’s up to you to do that.”

“And did you do that? Heal your mind?”

A sad smile twists his already crooked mouth. “I like to think so, and I like to think that you will, too.” He holds out a dried lotus flower, its petals a vivid purple, surrounded by bright yellow middle strands that look like some sort of sea creature you’d find in the ocean. “To put beneath your pillow.”

Taking it, I flick my gaze back up to him. He’s been leaving peonies beneath my pillow, just like he did when he tended to me in the army. Back then, I remember him telling me that where he was from, it was good luck to put them beneath your pillow when you were ill.

And I remembered something similar.

Peonies for good health. A willow branch for luck. Cotton stems for prosperity. The fleshy leaf of a jade to bring harmony.

And a lotus for resilience.

I can’t believe I didn’t think more about this coincidence before. “Where did you say you learned this tradition?” I ask carefully.

“Ah,” he says, and something indecipherable glitters in his eyes. “This was passed down to me. I learned my trade from a very good healer.”

Healer. Not mender.

Mender is the Orean word for it. But healer…

“Are you… I mean, you can’t be, but…” I falter, eyes skimming over him like I haven’t seen him before. The way he’s never balked at my ribbons, at my power, at anything to do with Slade… “Where exactly are you from?”

“My accent does not give it away?” he teases with a tap on his nose. “I was born in Southern Orea. Though, I lived here for a while. Trained here.”

My brows lift. “Here? As in…”