A plan quickly formed in Kiva’s mind: she would seek out Rhessinda at Silverthorn and, if she was free, enjoy a nice lunch with her, after which she would borrow one of the academy’s horses and ride to Murkwood Cottage. If all went as intended, she would be gone and back long before nightfall, with no one even knowing she’d left the city.
Pleased with herself, Kiva tucked her amulet beneath her sweater and left her room. Eager to avoid the masquerade chaos, she hurried to the front gates, nearly breaking her neck when she tripped over one of the many gardeners scattering luminium drops along the hedges in preparation for the party.
After an easy walk along the river, Kiva felt considerably more relaxed by the time she reached Silverthorn. Failing to spot Rhessinda in the sanctuary, Kiva entered the largest of the infirmaries, the one for treating illnesses and injuries, and approached the reception area.
“Excuse me,” Kiva said to the registrar, a young man with square glasses. “I’m looking for Rhessinda Lorin.”
“What’s she in for?”
“Pardon?”
“Is she sick? Hurt? Tell me why she’s here, and I’ll direct you to the correct ward. They’ll be able to give you her room number.”
Kiva shook her head. “No, she’s a healer.”
“Oh.” The man straightened his glasses. “Sorry, I’m new.”
He said nothing else, so Kiva asked, “Can you tell me where to find her?”
Sending her a bland look, he replied, “Do you know how many healers work here?”
He then lowered his head and returned to his work.
Torn between amusement and incredulity at his rudeness, Kiva turned and left the infirmary. Seeing a small group of young healers eating lunch together on the grass, she headed in their direction.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said to them, “but can you point me in the direction of Healer Rhessinda?”
Blank stares and head shakes met her question, with one saying, “We’re novices. The only healers we know are our teachers.”
Sighing, Kiva thanked them, then returned to the path. As she debated her next steps, she passed three older healers, but none were able to offer any insight into her friend’s location. She was just about to try the remaining infirmaries when she belatedly remembered what Rhess had said about working the morning shifts — and it was no longer morning.
With her lunch plans foiled, Kiva decided to cut her losses and treat herself regardless, leaving the academy and wandering back down to the river where she indulged in a chocabun — or three — and a serving of roasted vegetables flooded in gravy. Fully satisfied, she returned to Silverthorn and headed to the stables, pleased to be met by the same stableboy as last time.
Smiling at him, Kiva politely requested that he prepare her a mount. He squinted at her clothes, clearly noting that she wasn’t wearing a healer’s robe — nor was she accompanied by Rhess this time — but he seemed to remember her and, with a shrug, took off into the small barn. Minutes later, he returned leading Bluebell by the reins.
“You have a good memory,” Kiva said, handing him a silver coin for his troubles — courtesy of Jaren and his royal coffers.
“She liked you,” the boy said shyly. “I thought you’d want to ride her again.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Kiva said, stroking the mare’s dappled neck. “I’ll have her back to you in no time.”
He didn’t seem at all concerned by her plans, turning the silver coin in his fingers and pocketing it with great delight as she mounted and left the academy.
That, Kiva thought as she rode away, had been much too easy. But as she turned north and began her journey to Blackwater Bog, a smile spread across her face, because it was about damned time that something finally went her way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The ride to Murkwood Cottage was uneventful, the weather perfect, the road clear, her horse calm, and by the time Kiva dismounted at her grandmother’s doorstep, any lingering unease had completely faded away.
It returned in an instant when Delora hobbled out onto the porch, her cane in hand, her weathered face set into a frown.
“You came back.”
“You told me to,” Kiva said slowly, gauging her grandmother’s mood. “It’s been three days. Your potion has been working perfectly, thank you. I can’t feel my magic at all.”
“Hmmph,” Delora huffed. “I suppose this is where you try to convince me that you came back for more of it and not for the dagger that made it?”