Shortly after the King left, Navaill came to the little apothecary room. Unlike before, he looked flustered, his tunic someone rumpled and his hair slightly mussed.
“His Majesty sent me to attend you,” he said with a bow, trying to adjust his tunic subtly so that it sat straighter on him. “He also asked me to have the wolf who came with you,” he looked at Aertis, “leave the Royal suites. You’ll be staying here for the evening and it would be most improper for her to join you.”
“I’m staying in the King’s suite?” Lyria asked, puzzled. The Healer had given her a very strong painkilling infusion, so she was having a hard time concentrating. Aertis had been singing softly to her, a little tune they had both loved when they were young about a wolf leaving her pack territory for the first time
