Episode 9 + 2 - I Can Save The King! Part Five
507 Words
"Enough."
Elowyn’s voice cut the air with an aura of authority.
Her presence shifted. From queen to blade.
She looked at the herb. Then at Ayla. Then at me. Calculating. Only God knew what she had in mind. She then shared her opinion.
"Whether she is cursed or blessed doesn’t matter," Elowyn said. "What matters is that my husband is dying, and she held a leaf that should not exist."
The healer asked, still suspiciously, "how did you get this?"
"I made my research," she said.
The words hit the room like a thrown knife.
Icelynn’s eyes narrowed. Slow. Deliberate. The ice in them thickened until the torchlight looked cold on her skin.
She shot Ayla a stare that could kill. It dragged down Ayla’s mud-stained hem, over the scrapes on her knuckles, over the leaf-less palm that had held Marucus seconds ago. It lingered. It weighed. It found her wanting.
"Let’s try it out first," she said.
Venom filled her eyes. Not metaphor. Not anger. Something colder. The look of someone who’d been waiting for a reason.
The healer used the herb of Marucus on the king.
He didn’t make a show of it. No chant. No torch waved high. He crushed the leaf between two silver plates. The green bled. It didn’t darken. It lightened, until the room smelled like rain on stone and midnight soil. He worked it into a paste with clear water from the border springs. Then he lifted the king’s jaw with careful fingers and laid the paste on his tongue.
Everyone stood by waiting in the king’s room. Eyes didn't blink.
The bedchamber was high and cold. Tapestries pulled back. Windows shuttered half. Torchlight made everything gold and hard. The air was thick with breath held too long.
Every eye on the king. Seeking for movements.
The rise of a chest. The twitch of a finger. A blink. A word. Anything.
Icelynn stood at the foot of the bed. Hands clasped like prayer. Silk pressed to her thighs. Her face was perfect grief. Her eyes were not. She was secretly hoping for a slight complication. A cough that wouldn’t stop. A fever that spiked. A reason to say I told you.
Her nails dug into her palms where no one could see.
Levi stood near the wall. Arms loose. Eyes sharp. He wasn’t hoping for death. He was hoping for truth. He wanted to know if we were all about to be played.
Oliver was still. Too still. He watched the king, then me, then the door. Like he was counting exits. Like he didn’t trust a miracle that showed up the night I vanished.
Flora wrung her hands. She wanted it to work. She wanted Father to shout at her for being loud again. She wanted normal.
Ralph stood beside Elowyn. Head down. Hands folded. The humble seeming son. But his jaw was tight. He was not praying. He was calculating.
The healer stepped back. Sweat on his brow despite the cold. "We wait," he said.
Patience ran out.
- Writer
