Chapter 9

She snuggled against the plump pillow, turning her face away from the sunlight that splashed across her sheets. Rousing from a dreamless sleep, she began to see the brightness underneath her eyelids. She rolled to the other side, drawing the sheets closer to her chin. Serving as the king's healer has its advantages, she mused. A feather mattress is a far cry from the straw one that I use at home. All her aches seemed to melt away through the night until she had to flex her hands just to be sure that her muscles were still there. They responded lethargically, as resentful as she was to be awake once more.

But she was no sloth. At home, hundreds of chores required her attention before breakfast. It was probably the first time in years that she had been able to stay in bed so late when she wasn't sick. She sat up and noticed that someone had stripped her of the green gown and changed her into a clean nightgown. She had been too weary to do much save flinging herself onto the bed and crying herself to sleep. Noticing that someone had lain a pair of slippers next to the left side of bed, she swung her legs over that side.

By the time she finished her morning ritual of washing her face and cleaning her teeth, a young maid had entered with a tray that smelled wonderful.

"Good morning, Mistress," she chirped.

"Good morning, er..."

"My name is Fanny, ma'am. Mrs. Francis told me to serve you until your own maid arrives."

Giving a wry smile, Miriam answered, "I don't have a maid. I suppose you will just have to put up with me."

"Oh." Appearing flustered, Fanny paused in the middle of preparing tea. "I would not mind being your maid, ma'am, not at all."

Sniffing with interest, Miriam picked up a piece of toast from the silver tray. Breakfasting without having to make her own bread was definitely something she could get used to. The strawberry preserves were a perfect balance of sweetness and tartness. She made a mental note to wheedle the recipe from the castle chef for Aunt Xana.

"If you are going to be my maid," Miriam said, gesturing with the toast, "you better call me Miriam. None of that ma'am business. I'm barely your age, and it doesn't seem appropriate."

"Yes ma'am... um, Miriam."

"Have you had breakfast yet?" she asked Fanny. "Do you want to join me?" She pointed to the eggs and muffins that crowded on the side of the plate.

"Oh no thank you. It is almost noon actually."

Only sheer reflex prevented Miriam from dropping the perfectly well-done toast. Clutching a little tighter, she said, "I didn't realize. I hope Lord Adrian had not forgotten his promise of a tour of the castle."

Picking up a silver brush from the dressing table, Fanny started to comb Miriam's hair into some semblance of order. "Lord Adrian has requested your presence when you are ready."

Miriam finished her breakfast while Fanny skillfully arranged her hair into a simple yet elegant chignon. When Fanny laid out a royal blue gown, Miriam dismissed her, insisting that she could dress without help. Though Miriam often bathe in the streams and lakes of the forest, she was not accustomed to being nude in front of another. Thankfully, the gown laced up in the front where she could reach without breaking her arm.

Just as she finished tidying up the chamber, she heard a knock. At her call, Adrian stepped in, looking as polished as he did last night.

"I trust that you slept well, Miriam," he said.

"Yes, Adrian. I've had a restful night. Tea?" she offered

"No thank you. I have broken my fast earlier. Is the chamber to your satisfaction, or would you be needing anything else?"

Shaking her head, Miriam picked up her nightgown and laid it on a chair. "No, this is a wonderful room. I like the view from here. Can you show me the garden later?"

Smiling, Adrian tucked her hand under his elbow and led her out of her room.

"All in good time, my Lady. If you need anything, just ask Fanny or Mrs. Francis."

Walking slowly, he allowed her time to note the decoration, the portraits, anything to help her remember.

"There are four spiral staircases in this castle, and you are near the southeast tower. If you make two left turns, you will come upon it. The king is in the solar above, and you are allowed into his chamber at any time except for when he is in Counsel, like right now. My chamber, my library is below. You will find me there most of the time and my servants would know how to contact me if I am not."

Miriam's head swam with information, and she began to despair of ever learning the way around the castle.

"Adrian, where is Lady Ravenshire's chambers?"

Adrian explained that the rest of the floors were for the family of the powerful counselmembers whose presence were required daily. Lady Lucia's husband, Count of Ravenshire, is the Second Counselor, whose power equaled that of Adrian's.

As Adrian introduced the first floor, Miriam was enchanted by the grandeur of the rooms. The dining hall alone was impressive, its arched roof graced with frescoes depicting Erythalian legends in gold and silver. Long tables of polished redwood were laden with candlesticks prepared for the evening. Smaller rooms to the side were provided for breakfast and lunch, and they could be reserved for special occasion as well.

They entered the main hall, where the king received visitors and held Counsel. The dais held two thrones, both empty at the moment, flanked on two sides by seats for the First, Second, and Third Counselor, and the Queen. While a selected group from the Counsel was currently meeting with the king and the prince, Adrian explained, the prince insisted on holding full Counsel in the afternoons with every member in this chamber. The two walls on the side were lined with seats for the counselmembers.

They crossed the courtyard to the other side of the castle. Deserted rooms with elaborate panels on the walls were for balls, their beauty shuttered safely from the sun. The solar was for the prince and his family, and was forbidden to Miriam unless her presence was requested.

But at the moment, Miriam was granted entrance because of her guide. Leading her up the southwest tower, Adrian recounted tales of Phillip's antics and Isabel's illness. By the time they were on the very top of the tower, Miriam was breathless from the exercise and laughter.

Flinging the door open, Adrian said, "Welcome to my favorite part of the castle, my Lady."

Miriam's gasp was exactly what Adrian expected. Flags snapped proudly in the wind, the blue and silver of the Montague family hanging from the poles that lined the parapet. The Erythalian valley stretched beneath them in its full glory while the Mohana mountains graced the far horizon. The land patched with gold and green was intersected by the River of the Gods, which irrigated the land and quenched the thirst of the people. Leaning against the stone, Miriam sighed dreamily.

They stood in silence, enjoying the great weather and each other's company until Miriam shivered from the gusty wind.

"We should go. Since the morning counsel probably ended, you can see to the king's health."

This time, he allowed her to find her own way, chuckling occasionally when she led them back to the same place. It amazed him that a woman who knew both the art of healing and sword fight, a woman whose wits and good sense surpassed most of the ladies he was acquainted with, could have such trouble memorizing the layout of the castle. As her steps became more sure, Adrian had to admit that she was a quick learner.

A group of counsel members were coming out of the king's chamber as they reached the door. All looked curiously at Miriam, though they did not ask any questions, and Adrian did not seek to explain.

When the chamber was empty, Adrian led Miriam to the king's bedside. "I'm very sorry, Miriam, but I need to attend the afternoon counsel. I shall leave you here. If you need anything, the king's valet, James, will see to it."

"But... but what of the gardens," she asked.

"That will have to wait another day, Miriam. Good day, your Majesty." With a hurried bow, he rushed out, leaving Miriam standing awkwardly by the sick man.

She looked long and hard at the king, but she could not bring herself to hate him. How could she, when the man was obviously in pain? Wishing ill on the king would not bring her mother back, and to treat the king any less than her regular patients would only shame her father, who not only prided Miriam on her skills, but also on her compassion to her patients.

Having to handle the affairs of the state all morning, the king was weary by the time her examination had finished and was more grouchy than usual. Gathering some herbs from her chamber, she instructed James to brew it into tea for the king.

"It will help with the pain," she assured. "When my glassware comes, I can make more potent medicine, but for now, this will have to suffice."

When the tea was ready, she fed it to the king sip by sip until the bitter brew was gone. Tidying up the sheets, she tucked him in until he was comfortably nestled in a cocoon. She soothed his hair back from his brow with a motherly gesture, but the king made no protest.

When there was nothing left for her to do, she hesitated by the bedside. Seeing a copy of Journey Across the Mohana on the night stand, she asked "Would you like me to read to you a bit, or would you rather rest, your Majesty?"

The king barked out a harsh laughter. "I have a castle of servants to read to me if I want, lass."

"The difference is that I want to be here."

The king looked at her cynically, his eyes suddenly sharp. "Do you do this for all your patients, this extra gesture beyond what is professionally required?"

"No," she said. "I often bake bread or look after their children for a day or two, but as you said, you have a castle of servants to do that."

To her surprise, the king laughed heartily. He gestured to the nearby stool, and Miriam pulled it beside the bed.

"You have more courage and less common sense than most of my people to be so outspoken," he said.

"I cannot tell if I should be insulted or flattered," she mused.

"Ah, with such a sharp tongue, has your father found you a husband yet?"

"No indeed, your Majesty. As I said yesterday, my father has been sick, so I spend most of my time tending to his needs." She flipped to a marked page more forcefully than she intended.

The king smiled, "Miriam, your wit and outspokenness has been a refreshing change to those court sycophants. You should be flattered."

"Oh." Feeling incredibly embarrassed and flustered, she looked down blindly at the page.

"Had my daughter lived, she would have been a little older than you are now," he said wistfully.

"Sometimes the gods have other plans," she replied softly, touched by his display of humanity. "We Healers cannot change the course no matter how hard we try."

"I wasn't trying to place the blame with your father again, Miriam."

"I know, your Majesty." Waving a hand at the book, she asked, "Shall I start reading?"

"Please do, Mistress Healer." The king leaned back onto the pillows and closed his eyes.

After clearing her throat a few times, Miriam started reading to the king of Erythal.

That was how Adrian found them when he returned hours later, the king in bed and Miriam reading in a soft voice. At his footsteps, she glanced up, quickly motioning to be quiet. As he approached, he realized that the king was slumbering deeply. Miriam laid the book on the night stand, pulled the sheets to the king's chin, and left with Adrian.

As soon as the door closed, Adrian said, "I had expected you to be in your chamber already. Come, we are to go down to the hall for dinner."

"Oh," Miriam said, slightly disappointed that her evening alone was to be ruined. "But I have nothing appropriate to wear."

Dragging her along, Adrian replied cheerfully, "Our dressmaker are adapt at guessing measurements. They made your gowns in advance from one of your old ones that I sent before we left Triten."

"You what?" Miriam sputtered with outrage.

He shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

They had stopped at her room, and Adrian pushed the door open. Whipping around, Miriam scowled at him before giving him a good shove.

"You bastard," she growled, "how dare you violate my privacy."

"Hey!" He rubbed his abused arms, a pained expression on his face. "I knew that your trunks weren't going to arrive before us, so I took the liberty of sending one of your gowns by a messenger so that you would have appropriate clothes to wear."

"It is only proper you should ask me first before going through my personal belonging with your grubby fingers," she raged.

Getting angry himself, he raised his voice. "Why are you overreacting about this? Aren't you glad to have new gowns?"

"That's not the point. You've destroyed my sense of security."

She took a step and pushed him once more. "Who knows when you might feel the urge to snoop in my petticoats and bloomers," she sneered.

"You suspicious female," he hissed, "I would never go through your clothes if it wasn't necessary. You think I like looking at petticoats?"

"A man like you probably have seen your share of them," she retorted.

"You little..." He took a deep breath to steady himself before he could utter something unforgivable. "Miriam, there are days when I barely have time to sleep. Why would I go through your things when you are in the castle?"

"You've done it once, so obviously your conscience is not stopping you."

By his sheer height and bulk, he forced her to take a few steps back. She could see his jaw clenching, as he said, "I told you, I did what I had to. There was no time, and as I remembered, you were not so inclined to even talk to me those few days before our departure."

"Isn't it just like a man to push the blame on me. And I'm sure that you were too busy to spare a single sentence. Or maybe I'm not important enough for you to bother," she said, her voice dripping with venom.

Before he could open his mouth to defend himself, he had to leap back so that the door didn't slam his nose flat. At that moment, he was reminded of the reason he never married, and considered himself fortunate on the behalf of his nose.

"I'll come half past six to escort you to dinner," he shouted, hoping she could hear through the thick door.

He heard a muffled yell, then an item thrown against the door. Somewhat happier that it was the oak instead of his head, he went to his own chamber to clean up before dinner. She heard me alright.

He didn't dwell too much on their argument, confident that she would forget the matter soon enough. She was still scowling at him when he returned, but he was too enchanted with the sight to mind. The gown was in royal blue and her hair was pinned up with a net of pearl draped over it, leaving her shoulders bare,. Her arms were crossed under her breasts to show her displeasure at him, but all he could think of was the pleasure of looking at her.

Risking a hand, he dared to brush a hand across her brow. "You will charm the court if you'd only lose that scowl."

She only looked at him in exasperation, but stopped scowling only because it was giving her a headache. Since his hand was still intact, he tucked a strand of hair carefully behind her ear.

"You look beautiful," he said in a husky voice.

She slapped his hand out of her way, picking up her skirts so that she could stomp (at least, as much as she could in silk slippers) without falling flat on her face. She was aware the he kept up with her pace beside her, but didn't spare him one glance.