The Thirteenth Child by Erin A. Craig

Author:Erin A. Craig
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Horror, Young Adult
ISBN: 9780593482605
Publisher: Delacorte Press
Published: 2024-09-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

King Marnaigne sat near the parlor’s hearth in a canvas-covered chair, watching the flickering flames. He wore another robe, navy today, and must have recently bathed. He seemed mostly clear of Brilliance, and the ends of his hair curled wet around his neck.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” I greeted him.

He surprised me with a warm smile. “You’re still here, I see.” He gestured to the chair opposite him.

I’d decided it would be best to keep my tone as light as I could today. Laughter would help brighten his spirits and make the tasks at hand easier for me to carry out. “Did you expect me to dash away in the middle of the night?”

“No one would blame you if you did. I am just about to dine—join me?”

He gestured to a silver cart laden with plates of eggs and tartines, coffee and juice, along with a basket of croissants. After a moment’s deliberation, I picked out a cinnamon one and nearly groaned as I took my first bite.

I hated that Leopold was right. I’d never tasted anything better.

“I’d like to know more about what treatments the other healers tried,” I began.

“Treatments?” he repeated, letting out a snort. “Tortures!” Marnaigne took a bite of his own pastry, speaking around the crumbs. “The first doctor tried taking hot bits of metal to my skin, running the edges down my body, to cauterize the wounds.”

My eyebrows rose with concern. “But there are no wounds.”

He made a face of agreement. “It seemed to work for a day or so, and he was satisfied we were making progress. But after the third session, I couldn’t endure the pain any longer. I sent him packing.”

“And the next?”

He slurped his coffee, his movements mirroring Leopold’s with an uncanny similarity. There was no denying they were father and son. “The second nearly killed me. Powders and potions and concoctions I’d never heard of. I was violently ill for a week, throwing up and—” He stopped himself, staring down at the food. “Well, you can imagine, I’m sure.”

I could, and set aside the croissant.

“Did he happen to leave behind any notes? Lists of supplies, dosages given?”

He shrugged before looking to Aloysius.

“I believe there is a remainder of the powder,” the valet supplied.

“I was supposed to take it three times a day, mixed with water.” Marnaigne’s mouth puckered.

“I’d love to look at it.”

Aloysius nodded, jotting down the note.

“The next healer tried wraps. Slathered these long bandages with some sort of mud, then wound them all around my limbs and set me on the terrace in the sun. I was like a living brick when he returned. Took three footmen to chisel me out of the stinking mess.”

“Did it help at all?”

“He made it worse, the stupid tête de noeud.”

I nearly choked on my coffee, stifling a laugh at the king’s choice of insults. “It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you. The minerals probably drew out the Brilliance with terrible speed.”

The king snorted. “ ‘The Brilliance.’ Don’t you mean my sins?”

I set my cup down.

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