Rise by Ellen Goodlett

Author:Ellen Goodlett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2019-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

18

Akeylah

This is a role reversal,” a voice said, deep and sonorous, and loud enough to wake her from a fitful dream.

Akeylah’s eyelids fluttered. Father? That can’t be right, she thought as her memories flooded back. He was still bedridden, unconscious. Dying.

Yet, when she finally managed to crack her eyelids, there he sat, alive and well, in a heavily cushioned chair beside her bed. He was even smiling.

“Father.” Her voice cracked. She levered herself up on an elbow, and the king’s chambers swam around her. She was in his bed. The freshly opened scar on her thigh throbbed. An ache deeper than just the knife wound.

Andros held out a glass of water. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be bedridden. Not my healthy young daughter.” He tsked, though he nodded with approval when she took a long drink.

The water burned going down. Everything burned—her veins, her temples, even her eyeballs thudded in their sockets. Her leg worst of all. It felt on fire, alight with pain. She could almost sense the glow, brighter than ever. Had her father seen it? Did he know?

“Your illness…” She hesitated.

His smile widened. “Is gone. From what I hear, I was well beyond death’s doorstep. All the way to the entrance of the Blessed Sunlands, when I was called back to this realm. A miracle, my guards are calling it.” He checked over her shoulder. The room was empty. He bent closer. “My wife and the mender, on the other hand, tell me otherwise.”

Her face went hot. He must have seen the scar. Realized she was the culprit. This is it. He was going to imprison her like Ren. Or banish her like Zofi. “Father, I am so sorry—”

He held up a hand.

Or worse. Have her executed. She would deserve it. A traitor’s death. She nearly killed him, after all. Her own father.

“It took bravery to do what you did, Akeylah.”

She blinked. Whatever she’d anticipated, it wasn’t this. “I…”

“Rozalind told me how you researched night and day. That you refused to stop until you found a tithe to heal a relative. Healing another person’s body is, technically, a use of the Vulgar Arts—the scar on your thigh should remind you of that. Father Sun sent those marks so we’d know never to tithe into another’s blood. But in this case…” He flashed a quick wink. “I think we may make an exception.”

Oh. She dared to breathe again.

Rozalind didn’t tell him everything. He didn’t know Akeylah was the reason he’d fallen ill in the first place.

“I’ve explained to the mender who treated you that a king enjoys certain privileges,” Andros went on. “The privilege to bend the rules, at least a little, when it pertains to his own life. We’re going to keep this our little secret, with the understanding you will never flout the Sun’s law again.” The corner of his mouth rose. “Does that sound agreeable?”

“Of course, Father.” She ducked her head. Drank another gulp of water to soothe her throat.

“Good. Now, I’m afraid the scar will last a lifetime—nothing we can do about that.

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