Royal Assassin

“What is it?” Patience asked. She came, devil’s-club root in hand, to gaze curiously.

“Chickweed and plantain leaves. Simmered in oil, then worked with beeswax into a salve.”

“That should work well,” she conceded. “After the root poultice.”

I braced myself for his argument, but he only nodded. He suddenly looked very tired. He leaned back and pulled the blanket more closely about himself. His eyes sagged shut.

There was a knock at my door. I went to answer it, and found Kettricken standing there, with Rosemary at her elbow. “One of my ladies told me there was a rumor Burrich had returned,” she began. Then she looked past me into the room. “It’s true, then. And he’s hurt? What of my lord, oh, what of Verity?” She went suddenly paler than I thought she could be.

“He’s fine,” I reassured her. “Come in.” I cursed myself for my thoughtlessness. I should have sent word to her immediately of Burrich’s return and of the tidings he carried. I should have known that otherwise she would not be told. As she entered, Patience and Lacey looked up from the devil’s-club root they were steaming to welcome her with quick curtsies and murmurs of greeting.

“What’s happened to him?” Kettricken demanded. And so I told her; reporting all that Burrich had told King Shrewd, for I thought she had as much right to word of her husband as Shrewd had to word of his son. She blanched again at mention of the attack on Verity, but kept silent until my telling was done. “Thank all our gods that he draws closer to my Mountains. There he will be safe, from men at least.” That said, she drew closer to where Patience and Lacey were preparing the root. It had been steamed soft enough to crush into a pliable mass, and they were letting it cool before applying it to the infection.

“Mountain ash berry makes an excellent wash for such an injury,” she suggested aloud.

Patience looked up at her shyly. “I have heard of that. But this warmed root will do much to draw the infection from the wound. Another good wash for proud flesh such as this is raspberry leaf and slippery elm. Or as a poultice.”

“We have no raspberry leaf,” Lacey reminded Patience. “The damp got into it somehow and it molded.”

“I have raspberry leaf if you are in need of it,” Kettricken said softly. “I had prepared it for a morning tea. It was a remedy my aunt taught me.” She looked down and smiled oddly.

“Oh?” Lacey asked in sudden interest.

“Oh my dear,” Patience suddenly exclaimed. She reached to take Kettricken’s hand with a sudden, strange familiarity. “Are you sure?”

“I am. At first I thought it was just . . . But then I began to have the other signs. Some mornings, even the smell of the sea can make me so miserable. And all I want to do is sleep.”

“But you should,” Lacey exclaimed with a laugh. “As for the queasiness, it passes, after the first few months.”

I stood very still, foreign, excluded, forgotten. All three women suddenly laughed together. “No wonder you were so anxious to have word of him. Did he know, before he left?”

“I did not even suspect it then. I so long to tell him, to watch his face.”

“You’re with child,” I said stupidly. They all turned to look at me, and then burst out laughing anew.

“It’s a secret, still,” Kettricken cautioned me. “I want no rumors before the King has been told. I want to be the one to tell him.”

“Of course not,” I assured her. I did not tell her that the Fool already knew, and had known for days. Verity’s child, I thought to myself. A sudden strange shivering raced over me. The branching of the path that the Fool had seen, the sudden multiplying of possibilities. One factor emerged above all others: the sudden removal of Regal, pushed one more step away from the throne. One more small life standing between him and the power he craved. How little he would care for that.

“Of course not,” I repeated more heartily. “This news is best kept an absolute secret.” For once it was out, I had no doubt that Kettricken would be in as much danger as her husband.

23 Threats