Page 26 of A Healer's Wrath
“My lady.” Father draped an arm around my shoulders and kissed my head. “The people whisper about what your golden thread might mean. Have you forgotten what that color represents?”
“No, of course not.” My gaze fell to the cobbles as we walked. “It’s just . . . I’m the same person I was before.”
Rist stopped walking a few dozen paces from the Medica’s door, halting our entire party’s progress. He and Father exchanged a glance, and then it was my Master that held my shoulders.
“Irina, we know you. Those you have Healed think they do. The people who waved know only what they hear, and rumors make dragons of toads.” He sighed, and his smile fell. “Some will adore you, though they know not why. Others will fear you for the same reason—or lack of reason. Word of your gifts has already spread like wildfire across this Kingdom, and it will only burn brighter now that you wear the King’s crest. I fear your days of simple study are ending.”
Father nodded. “Your Master speaks truly, Irina. I hear the talk from our patients, in the taverns.”
Mother nodded. The others stared.
I didn’t know how to feel. The King’s and Queen’s recognition was beyond anything I could have ever dreamed; and yet, fame had never been my goal. My path was supposed to be that of my parents, of a simple physiker whose work gave hope and comfort. What would come with being well known? How would life change? Would people bless or envy me? Or both? Would they be kind or—?
“Irina, there is time enough to worry later. Come, enjoy today.” Mother, as ever, knew my heart. Her smile chased away my fears . . . for the moment.
Chapter fourteen
Irina
At first, I didn’t notice the change. I had become used to crowds queuing up for treatment or advice. Patients had always been kind and paid deference to those offering care. Master Rist lectured often about the dangers of thinking too highly of one’s self simply because we wore a smock. He bade us to stay humble and remember our role as servants to the people.
And yet, as fall gave way to winter’s touch and more of my time was spent traveling between the infirmary and the Palace, I began noticing subtle differences.
The first time a woman curtsied as I passed.
That was a respect paid only to nobles and royals. I was neither.
Even the Palace staff took my appointment as more than a simple shift of a Healer’s duties. Maids doted on me everywhere I went, never letting me open a door or carry my own tools. I knew such gestures were meant with the best of intentions but couldn’t stop my skin from crawling every time they occurred.
When the guards at the Palace gate snapped to attention and lowered their heads in crisp salute, I decided to seek the Queen’s counsel.
Respect was one thing. Obedience was a bridge too far.
“Your Majesty, I know everyone means well, but it’s uncomfortable, all the bowing and . . . well, I’m sure you know what I mean better than anyone.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Queen Asin smiled and gripped my hand. She then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “If you want to know the truth, it still makes me a little uncomfortable, and I’ve worn a crown most of my life.”
“But I don’t wear a crown, and I’m not even a noble. They shouldn’t bow, not to me.”
Asin smirked, and I was sure she was about to share some clever scheme; but, as quickly as the expression came, it vanished, and her smile returned. “They are showing you respect. By extension, they are showing it to the King. After all, you’re his Healer.”
“I suppose.” I wasn’t sure I agreed, but who was I to disagree with the Queen? “It still makes me itch.”
“You will get used to it. Most of it, anyway.” Asin rose. “Join Melric and me for dinner tonight? It would be nice to have some youth at our table for a change.”
I hopped to my feet. “Really? Your Majesty, I’d love to. Thank you.”
As public as the Crown might be, the King and Queen were known for valuing their privacy and rarely invited anyone into their residence, much less to dine with them when there was no formal function requiring it. My mind teetered between astonishment, elation, and a burgeoning affection for my Queen.
“Good,” Asin said with a knowing smile. “We will see you at seven. Please come in something more comfortable than your smock. The King and I will be very casual.”
My head spun. What did one wear to dinner with the King and Queen in their private dining room? And what was the Queen’s definition of casual? A gown without her jewels? Was it even possible to be casual with the royal couple?
I left the Palace with a dozen other questions racing through my mind—and a good deal of excitement over the evening to come.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t see a man in a flowing blue robe watching me pass as I exited the Palace gates.
Hours later, I practically skipped as a page led me into the royal dining room. I’d changed from my smock into a simple green dress. I was relieved to see the King in a simple, white linen shirt with long sleeves and laces that ran halfway down from his neck. The Queen had been right; I’d never seen a royal so casual or relaxed. He stood as I entered, sipping the wine a porter had filled to the brim, then grimaced as a few drops splattered across his shirt.