Total pages in book: 201
Estimated words: 191006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 955(@200wpm)___ 764(@250wpm)___ 637(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 955(@200wpm)___ 764(@250wpm)___ 637(@300wpm)
“These two,” Kazimir announces, and the guard opens the door. “Go on.” Kazimir goads me forward.
Sitting at one of the long tables is a face I was not expecting to see ever again.
“Priestess!” I exclaim, a mixture of relief and shock mixed in with my voice.
She smiles. A sad one, but it seems genuine. “The baker with the little boy whose hand was burned. I’m so glad to know that you and your baby are safe.”
I move in and take the seat she pats next to her.
“What was your name again?”
“Gracen.”
“That’s right.” She’s so much thinner than the day I saw her in the sanctum, her cheeks hollowed, her skin pale. And her hand … it’s wrapped in bandages. She seems nervous.
“Are you well?”
“Much better now, thank you for asking. And who is this beautiful new child?”
“Her name is Suri.”
“Lovely choice.” She tips her head to regard Suri’s still form, an odd peace passing over her.
“You have much work to do, Priestess,” Kazimir stands at the door, waiting.
“Yes. Of course. Your hand?” She holds hers out, palm up.
I slide mine into it.
“You must remain still for me, please. This will sting a little but only for a moment.” She holds her injured hand over mine and closes her eyes.
Heat seers into my flesh, my jaw clenching from the burn. But it’s gone as quickly as it came.
“There.” She releases my hand. “Now you are marked.”
A dull brown symbol fills the fleshy part of my thumb—a circle with two interlocked crescent moons. I’d heard about this. “Wait, does this mean—” Panic stirs inside me as I look from it to her. “Have I been—”
“No.” She smiles reassuringly. “But if you were to be infected, it would glow and that would serve as a warning not to take your vein.”
My shoulders sink.
“Do the baby too,” Kazimir says. “You said your other two were in the cellars?”
“Yes.”
A frown flitters across her face. “I hate to wake a sleeping baby.”
And she certainly will. “Wait. Can she mark the other two first? Suri will be screaming after this, and if they see that … It will make things easier for all of us if they go first.”
Kazimir sighs heavily. “Wait here.” He ducks out, sending the guard in to watch over us. As if a baker, a newborn, and a tortured priestess are intent to conspire.
A tense energy lingers in the room.
Wendeline swallows. “How was the childbirth?”
“How it always is. Difficult.”
“I cannot imagine. Will you allow me to offer you aid?” She reaches out but then freezes, checking for my reaction. “Only if you would like it.”
“Of course. I’m on the mend, but speeding it up would be great.”
She sets her healing hand over my abdomen. Almost instantly, a calm floods my body, soothing dull aches and twinges of discomfort. “There … that should have sped things along nicely.”
“Thank you.”
“I did not realize how much I missed using my gift for others. So thank you.”
I remember the day in the sanctum, when the priestess settled her hand on my swollen belly and confirmed the baby inside was progressing well. “Could you tell me … I mean, she seems to be fine, but you never do know, do you?” There are plenty of stories of healthy babies who go to sleep in their cradles and never wake up. If there is something to be seen, perhaps the caster could fix it?
“The baby? Oh, certainly.” Wendeline sets a hand over Suri’s chest and closes her eyes again.
I watch her serene face as I did all those weeks ago.
Suddenly, her eyes flash open, shock in them.
“What is it? Is something wrong with her?”
“No.” She punctuates that with a headshake, schooling her expression. “She is perfectly fine. Healthy and strong. And perfect.” She peers down at Suri. “Tell me, when was she born?”
“Uh … it’s not even been a fortnight yet.”
“A fortnight,” she echoes, and her thoughts seem to drift.
“Why?”
“Oh, no reason, I was merely curious—”
The door flies open.
“What need do you have of them?” Corrin demands to know as Kazimir leads Mika and Lilou in, the lady’s maid on their heels.
“King’s orders,” he throws over his shoulder before disregarding her. “I know this one’s yours. What about this other one?”
“Priestess!” Mika exclaims, his face lighting up as he rushes forward. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”
“It has been a while.” Wendeline laughs, taking him in. “And how is that hand of yours?”
He holds it up and flexes it open and closed in proof. “Can’t even tell no more. I can climb trees again.”
“And trellises up the castle wall,” Corrin adds, accusation in her tone.
“That is wonderful news. Can I see it more closely for a moment?” Wendeline holds out her palm.
He readily agrees, slapping his hand into hers.
“See? It’s almost as good as new!”
“Almost. I’m here to make it even better. Now, I must add something to your hand, and you must remain very still, okay?”