“No. But I’m not taking any chances.”
“What are you going to do?”
He turned fully to me and lowered his eyes to mine. His gaze was thick with turmoil and threat, but beneath the tempest I could see his still-broken heart, begging for my forgiveness, vowing to never let me down again.
“Whatever I have to.”
He hesitated, more words lurking on his parted lips, but he pressed them together into a firm line. With a caress of my hand so faint I might have imagined it, he let me go and walked away.
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Walking back into the healer’s center of Mortal City was a strange enough experience, having given up my career as a healer.
But doing so as the Queen of Lumnos, with Princess Lilian on my arm while Taran and a crowd of Royal Guards hovered outside? That felt like wading through a lucid dream. The details were vivid and familiar, but nothing made any sense. Nothing quite fit.
Weeks ago, Lily had confessed an interest in learning the healer’s trade. With my time running out, I was determined to keep my word to help her. It didn’t hurt that it was also a perfect excuse to keep her out of the palace and far away from Remis.
“It’s a beautiful day to save some lives,” I called out as I strolled through the door. It was the same chipper greeting I’d given for years, though today, my casual lightness felt like a lie.
“Diem!” Maura yelped and jumped to her feet. “How—what are you—that is, you’re always welcome here, of course, but—why?”
“I’d like to offer a trade.” I held up a large wicker basket. “A few hours in the workroom in exchange for supplies to restock the inventory.”
Maura peered in at the contents, and her face went slack. “Is this…？”
“Hawksflower, star nettle, and sweet blushroom,” I chirped, a rare glimmer of genuine happiness shining through my dark fog. “I had them planted in the palace gardens.”
Maura continued to gape as Lily looked between us, her brows furrowed with confusion.
“They’re rare medicinal herbs,” I explained. “Forbidden for mortals to plant, too expensive for mortals to buy.”
“Why are they forbidden to plant?” she asked.
“Forbidden for mortals,” I corrected. “These herbs fetch a very high price, and any crop of significant value can only be grown on farms owned by the Descended.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. There should be an exception for medicinal plants.”
Maura and I exchanged a knowing look.
“Perhaps,” I agreed. “Or perhaps the rule should not exist at all. Perhaps mortal and Descended farmers should be treated equally in all things.”
Lily opened her mouth and closed it, then repeated the gesture again, looking like a fish plucked from the sea and gasping to be tossed back in.
I could see her mind turning over the same explanations we’d all been given—that these laws existed to protect mortals, to shield them from matters only the Descended could safely handle—and, to my pleasant surprise, finally rejecting them with a disapproving frown.
She sighed. “Luther said the same thing to me once. I suppose I should have paid closer attention.”
My brows rose. “He did?”
“He wanted to teach me about the laws before I joined the Crown Council, but…” Her cheeks flushed. “When he starts talking about politics, I confess that I… um, well… I…”
I nudged her arm. “At least that’s one thing mortals and Descended will always have in common—not listening to their older siblings.”
Lily gave me a relieved smile, though the tiny crease between her brows told me her mind was still chewing on a problem she wouldn’t soon dismiss.
Good.
I handed the basket off to Maura. “I gave the palace gardener instructions to have all clippings sent here. If the deliveries don’t continue after…” I swallowed. “…after next week, speak with Luther. He’ll ensure it’s taken care of.”
Maura stared at me with enough pity on her features that I had to look away. “That’s very thoughtful,” she said. “I heard about what you did for the orphanage. They’ve been able to take in twice as many children now, you know.”
I shrugged off her words, though my heart sang with satisfaction. In the weeks since my disastrous meeting with House Hanoverre, I’d realized my opportunity to help the mortals might begin and end with the Period of Challenging. There was little I could do without Remis’s consent as Regent, but I’d managed a few small acts of rebellion.
After watching mountains of food go to waste from the vast buffets offered each mealtime, I’d bribed two kitchen servants into delivering the leftovers to families I knew to be struggling. A number of forbidden books about mortal history and culture had also mysteriously gone missing from the palace archives, where they may or may not have reappeared on the shelves of the mortal school bearing the seal of the Crown and a note of exemption from the laws.
I’d even roped Alixe into my scheming. As Luther’s second-in-command in the Royal Guard, she had authority over the Descended who patrolled Mortal City. After a long conversation, she’d agreed to take a more active role in supervising them and remove a number of guards who, unbeknownst to her, were notorious among mortals for their violent ways.
I had no idea if any of these initiatives would survive me, but amid all my screw-ups and strained relationships, these gestures were the only thing that kept the looming darkness at bay.
“Go on then,” Maura huffed, shooing us toward the workroom. “Stay for as long as you need, but keep out of sight, or I’ll have a line of people pretending to be ill just to get a look at you.”
I ushered Lily into the back where I set about explaining each item in the inventory and their various uses. She watched eagerly, jotting down notes and offering thoughtful questions that I would have expected from a much more advanced trainee.
In fact, the longer I watched her expression light up with interest, the more I realized how well-suited Lily would have been as a healer, if she were a mortal. She was studious and responsible, she had a keen mind for plants, and she seemed to derive true joy from helping others, especially to those who were outsiders, as Teller and I had been.
I felt a pang of sadness that her royal status made it nearly impossible for her to have any trade, especially one typically relegated to mortals—only to realize with a start that I was pitying a royal Descended for being unable to work.
Months ago, I would have sneered at the thought, but lately my eyes had been opened to the two faces of the oppressive regime. The mortals were not the only ones bound by injustice—and the mortals were not the only ones who stood to gain from its destruction.
I set Lily on a task to mix a handful of simple salves that might be useful in treating the everyday scrapes of her younger cousins. After watching and offering occasional advice, I left her to her work and began my own task rereading my mother’s notes on Descended poisons and their antidotes.
Just in case.
“I’ll agree to marry him, you know,” Lily said after a few minutes, her voice almost too soft to hear. She kept her eyes on her work as she mashed leaves in her mortar and pestle. “If it will keep everyone from fighting, I’ll marry Roderyck Byrnum. I don’t mind.”