The king's smile was a blade.
I staggered back, my boots slipping in Joren's blood. Mother's fingers dug into my arm like claws, but I barely felt it. The room tilted, the truth crashing over me in waves.
He wanted me here.
King Redworth stepped forward, his ermine-trimmed cloak whispering against the floor. His gaze flicked to the boy, his nephew now gasping on the chair, then back to me.
"You really are as gifted as they say."His voice taunting. "Pity."
Lira wrenched free of Joren's weakening grip, her face a mask of fury and agitation ."She's seen too much"
"Silence." The king didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
The physician flinched as if struck.
I forced my voice steady. "You poisoned your own daughter." The words bad in my mouth . "To what? Lure me to the palace?"
A flicker in his eyes, something darker than pride. "To see if you could undo a death sentence. And you did. Twice."He gestured to the boy. "My brother's heir. Another obstacle… neatly removed, until you intervened."
Mother's breath hitched. "You're eliminating your bloodline."
The king ignored her, his attention locked on me. "I could use you, Sylvia. Or I could kill you." He tilted his head. "Choose."
---
The frankincense tonic.
It was still in my hand, tucked against my palm like a secret. A single drop could wake a dying man, or burn a living one from the inside out.
I met the king's gaze. "I choose neither."
I hurled the vial at the floor between us.
It shattered.
A cloud of acrid smoke erupted, searing the air. Screams filled the room, Lira's shrill, the king's choked, as the frankincense dust ignited, locking out the oxygen in the room.
Mother was already moving, hauling the dazed boy upright. "Run!"
We burst into the courtyard, the dawn light now a sickly gray. Behind us, the estate doors slammed open, guards, swords drawn.
"The stables!" Joren coughed, blood flecking his lips as he pointed. "Take the black mare, she's swift"
An arrow hissed past my ear, embedding itself in the wooden post beside me.
No time.
I shoved the boy toward Mother. "Go! Get him to the Willow's End tavern, ask for Penelope. Go!"
Mother's eyes flashed with terror, with understanding. "And you?"
Another arrow. Closer.
I turned toward the guards.
"I'll distract them."I said almost afraid
---
I ran toward the blades.
Reckless...
The guards faltered, unprepared for a madwoman charging them. I ducked beneath a swinging sword, snatching a fallen dagger from the cobblestones.
"She's here!" someone yelled.
I didn't stop.
The alleyways of the lower district swallowed me whole, narrow, twisting, mine. I wove through them like a ghost, the guards' shouts fading behind me.
But I wasn't heading for the tavern.
I was heading for the only place they wouldn't dare follow.
The Blackwater.
The river where the village's filth and forgotten things festered.where the real healers hid
---
The water was freezing.
I plunged in, the current clawing at my clothes, my hair, my satchel still strapped across my chest. The guards' torches flickered on the bridge above, their curses lost to the rush of the river.
I let the Blackwater take me.
Because now I knew the truth:
The king didn't want a Royal Healer.
He wanted a weapon.
And I'd be damned before I let him wield me.