The trumpets sounded to announce the return of the carriage, making Idris’s heart leap and clench at the same time. He dusted down his filthy shirt, felt for his ponytail – still gone, still left behind in the fae realm – and sighed shakily. The wheels felt smoother on the courtyard cobbles, and then it was still, and surprisingly quiet outside.
Lila opened the door, her face flushed, and bowed.
“Sir Idris, let me assist you,” she said, pulling the steps down.
“Thank you, Lila.”
“She is here,” she whispered when he got close. He nodded.
He was not two steps out when he heard Kurellan say, “Steady, there, Your Majesty,” and then Cressida was hugging him as if she had not seen him for years. Idris pressed his cheek to her hair and squeezed hard. He did not see the courtyard or the Queen’s entourage, or even Kurellan and Riette. None of that was important. In twelve years, this was the longest he had been away from his best friend and he missed all of the things he had taken for granted – the sea-salt smell in her hair, the strength in her shoulders. She was shaking, but when she pulled away there was a smile on her face.
“How did you get so dirty?” she whispered, brushing his shoulders, and he laughed too loud and held the tears back. She herself looked as perfect as ever, except in her training clothes instead of a court-approved gown.
“I did step in a fairy circle, actually,” he said. “But I forgot to ask for flowers and I saw no unicorns. I am sorry, Majesty.”
“I have been sleepless with worry,” she said, her face falling.
“Please, no. I am well, considering. I have much news, and… and I do desperately need a bath and I do not know whether that takes priority or not.”
“Bath,” she said, stepping back and taking both of his hands. “Bath first. And a big meal, and clean clothes, and… Idris, did you allow a horse to chew your ponytail off?”
“Um… that is part of the story.”
“I will send a barber. Lila, you are perfect, as always,” Cressida said, beaming at Lila. Lila bowed, but Cressida tutted and took her hand, too. “No, no. We are friends, here.”
“Speaking of friends,” said Idris, nodding at Willard. “Your Majesty, this is Willard. He is a competent hedge witch and an aria apprentice. He is a valued friend. Are there rooms he can stay in close to mine?”
With great concentration, Willard bowed low; he had tied his hair so it did not flop down.
“Majesty, it is a right honour to make your ‘quaintance,” he said, the politest way he could. Cressida smiled.
“Master Willard, it is indeed an honour, but it is mine. I do hope Sir Idris was not too demanding of your services, he does hurt himself at a remarkable rate…”
Willard blushed and stifled a laugh, but he straightened up.
“He lets me practice me herblore on a daily basis, Your Majesty.”
“Come,” said Cressida, “we will retire and make ourselves comfortable. I expect there is much to talk about.”
Finally, Idris looked over at Kurellan and Riette. The old judge nodded, the same as ever in his black-and-white armour, and Lady DeTrentaville smiled a glorious smile with her helmet under her arm, dressed in city guard colours.
It was beyond comforting for the Queen to take control of his situation. She gave orders and they were followed immediately, without question; nobody was to disturb them until the morning and the palace healers had to report to Idris’s rooms as a matter of urgency. The workings of his normal life surrounded him – the bells on every wall, the coral marble cool and smooth underfoot, the scent of the gardens over everything – and Idris relaxed into them as if everything that had happened while he had been gone was just a dream he had.
To Willard, though, the palace was a mirage manifested. He stared at everything as if blinking too hard would make it vanish and he asked Lila every question that came to mind. She answered good-humouredly and introduced him to the Head Gardener as they passed. Idris walked arm-in-arm with Cressida in front, as they so often had done, on the way to his quarters.
“You feel thin,” she said softly.
“There are not many honeyed cakes or sugared plums out on the border,” said Idris. She poked him with her elbow.
“Do not joke. Nothing Kurellan has told me is a joking matter. Are you truly well?”
“Probably not,” he admitted. “But I am holding it together, for now.”
“I will stay while you bathe and I will not take no for an answer,” she said, her face stern.
“That is going to make a lot of people very upset, Cress.”
“Pity those people, for something so simple as a bath to upset them,” she said, tutting. “I have seen you bathe a hundred times.”
“Again, that sort of admission is likely worrisome for many.”
“Let me mother you,” she whispered, hugging his arm. “Please. I feel responsible for –“
“No,” he interrupted, all joking aside. “No, you did the right thing. Between us, Kurellan and I, we managed it. It was not a situation any of us expected.”
Idris’s rooms had not changed. When the door opened, he saw his little desk by the window, his stack of books and his quill and ink, his magic chest filled with crystals and salts, his changing screen and entertaining couch – everything he expected to see – but he had to close his eyes to keep from crying in front of Willard and Lila.
“Lila, please draw Sir Idris a nice, warm bath,” said Cressida gently, putting him down on the couch. “The healers are on their way and lunch will be ready as soon as you are clean and dressed and taken care of, Rissy.”
“Stop being kind to me,” he said, his voice strained.
“Why?”
“It makes me want to cry harder.”
“You can cry, silly. It will make you feel better. Lila does not mind, do you, Lila?”
“No, Majesty,” said Lila from the bathroom.
“Willard is not here, he is in the apprentice rooms next door, likely having a good bath of his own,” said Cressida. “Kurellan and Lady DeTrentaville have excused themselves so you can recuperate. It is just us, and you can cry all you want –“
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Once he heard that they were alone, Idris let go of his held breath and let the tears come. He did not care if Cressida saw him cry; it was not the first time, after all. She ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed his shoulders and said nothing, and he cried because he was scared and exhausted and aching and confused. When Lila came out of the bathroom, he was too tired to keep sobbing.
“This is beneath you,” he said to Cressida as she helped him to his feet.
“Being a good friend is beneath me?” she said.
“You know what I mean.”
“Lila,” she said, with her regal confidence, “I shall take it from here. You deserve a bath also. Ask the girls outside to fetch my good salts, the ones from The Split Sea, and enjoy yourself.”
Lila blinked, looked from her Queen to her master. “Are you sure, Majesty? I do not mind –“
“You have tended admirably to dear Idris in extraordinary circumstances,” said Cressida. “I cannot imagine it was easy. Please. He is as close to a brother as I shall ever have and I am quite happy to take care of him.”
“Well… then I will leave you,” said Lila, bowing low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“No, Lila, thank you. I shall have to find some way to promote you one of these days.”
Idris’s tiny bathroom was set up so that if he chose, he could bathe without assistance. The tub had a seat and a prop to place his stump on and was set into the floor so he did not need to climb. Lila had filled it with steaming, cloudy mineral water and red clumps of moisturising berries, and laid out the necessary medicines for tending to his leg. Idris did not remember the last time Cressida had sat here beside him – before her coronation, most likely – but she sat in the stool like it was yesterday and waited for him to sit opposite so she could help with his prosthetic.
“Tell me everything,” she said, with his leg in her lap.
He started with the barracks and did not stop. Cressida asked no questions, but the light in her eyes seemed to brighten with each new development of his bizarre story. By the time he was finished, he had drunk two goblets of wine and sunk low into the hot water, and the Queen, leaning forward on her stool, frowned and refilled her own cup.
“I do not want to send you back to Braemar,” she said.
“I do not think we have a lot of choice,” said Idris.
“I wish you had consulted with me before you went to the fae realm.”
“There was no time.” He popped another berry between his fingers, rubbed it on the scarring on his arm. It calmed the itching immediately but it did not take away the memory of Joa’s fingers around his wrist. “It… it did not feel like my decision. Not really. Nothing felt like it was my own, in there.”
“For my part,” said Cressida with a sigh, “it has been a slow and fraught week. After I got your first letter, I went straight to work trying to root out our spy. I think you are right, that the spy and the rogue necromancer are working together and that yes, they wanted you and Kurellan out of the picture. As soon as you left, attacks stopped.”
“No more thieves?” said Idris, frowning. She nodded.
“I thought maybe I had been hasty to react the way I did, but I supposed that the spy did not want to ruffle any more feathers. Then I got your second letter.” She put her tongue in her cheek. “By then, of course, you and Kurellan were already at Harran Pass, and we had spoken. I knew you had not betrayed me, by the way,” she said, smiling, patting his shoulder. “I was very upset with Kurellan and I am sure he was shaking when we spoke. I assumed that your arrest was what the spy had wanted, so I made the information public to the High Court.”
“Oh,” said Idris.
“Magus Arundale, of course, stood in your defence. As did more people than you would likely expect. General Lys and Commander Bartold both puffed out their chests and said ‘I told you so’ but that did not surprise me. So, I utilised some of my girls as spies. Had them follow a few of your louder critics around the palace. It had to be either Lys or Bartold. They were the only two who were in the room when you and Kurellan decided to go on your little scouting mission. How else would the other necromancer have known you were there?
“Either they are in cahoots or one of them is a better liar than the other,” she said. “Bartold asked me if he should increase the guard in case you escaped.” Idris snorted; Cressida cracked a smile. “I told him if he was so afraid of ghosts and ghouls, he should stay away from the night watch. General Lys, on the other hand, has been rather quiet outside of court meetings. Everything right now is going through Kurellan and Lady DeTrentaville, who I must say is an excellent tactician and rather pretty.”
“I had not noticed,” said Idris, sipping his wine.
“Of course you hadn’t, she is not made of parchment and ink.” She sighed. “I cannot trust court to do this. She and Kurellan have already said the same, by the way, that Braemar is the only clear entry point for this Spirit Glass wielding stranger. My eyes and ears are looking for him from here to Istabrook. Braemar is quiet and close enough to move unheeded towards Veridia. Kurellan is making a plan. You say your cane can shatter the dagger?”
“That is what I was told, and what I bargained my life for.”
“Then that is what we must believe.” Cressida put down her drink, slid one of Idris’s simpler prosthetics to the stool. “I will share this new information with Kurellan. I think he has become rather fond of you recently. He sent requests to the librarians to have texts ready for you when you returned.”
The barber arrived, then, to tidy up Idris’s poorly cut hair, followed by the healers. Idris closed his eyes and listened to them weave healer arias around him, remembering the wheezy notes from Uncle Haylan’s songs, the songs he thought he would learn one day. The magic tickled and cooled, knitted skin and scar together, massaged aches. The healers spoke softly to each other around him, cataloguing grazes and cuts and bruises, prescribing herbal mixtures and bandages. By the time he was out of the bath and dry, he was wrapped so completely in medicated strips that he hardly needed clothes. Cressida, however, insisted that she helped to put his shirt on and inquired of his need for his prosthetic; the healers said nothing except herbs should touch the stump for a day, at least. Bed rest was the consensus.
Lila, in fresh attendants’ clothes, brought trays and trays of food to the bed and shared a meal with him, watching what he ate and making notes for the healers. Eventually, Cressida stroked the back of Idris’s head and smiled.
“I will take my leave, Rissy. Tomorrow, there will be plans and procedures. Until then, please do as you are told, hmm? My, it is strange not to feel your little ponytail there. To think I did not like it, once. It made you look taller.”
“I think he shaved it too close,” said Idris, touching the stubble on the nape of his neck.
“I think it is handsome, regardless. Watch him like a hawk, please, Lila.”
“Yes, Majesty.”
Idris felt how he had when he had woken in the palace for the first time, aged only eleven, with all of these strangers gazing down at him, giving him medicines and feeding him and treating him oh so gently. It had been confusing and frightening but, in the chaos, there was Uncle Haylan. Now, instead, there was Lila. Her skin was tanned and her hair still sun kissed, but her mannerisms and tasks did not change, even after everything. On the road, their professional relationship had shifted strangely, and Idris did not know if this life was good enough for her, anymore. He had watched her grow up at his side and he did not know her wants or needs, only that she was there, always, for him.
“Lila?”
“Yes, Sir Idris?”
“This must be tedious for you.”
She frowned to herself. “Tedious how, sir?”
“You are a very capable and brave woman. All of this…” He gestured to the food, the bed. “This is… you are worth more than this.”
She looked at him then like he was a stranger to her, and it terrified him all at once. Carefully, she put down her plate and sighed.
“Sir Idris, I was twelve when we first met,” she said. “I am now the same age you were when I stood right here and Her Majesty showed me how to wrap your leg. I know back then we were both learning a lot. You didn’t want me here, and truth be told, I was scared. And I know you didn’t want me here not out of badness, but because… you felt bad for me. For the things I did for you. I like to think that the longer I have been here, the happier we both have been.”
“I think that is true, yes.”
“I like this job,” she said, with a small smile. “I’m good at it, too.”
“The best.”
“I know I won’t ever be your apprentice or anything like that. To a lot of people, I’m just your attendant girl and I’m not important but I know I am important to you. You never treated me as less than you. You always say, ‘thank you,’ and that sounds silly, but…” She sighed. “You are my family,” she said. “It wasn’t so long ago when you said that to me. I already knew it, though. When I came, your uncle was gone. I had just left home. I didn’t have nobody here. You were kind when you didn’t need to be. I am thankful for that.”
“My uncle would have liked you,” said Idris quietly. “Lila, if… if you could do anything, though… what would you do? You could be a knight. You could go to noble parties and wear beautiful gowns.”
“I am already doing everything I want,” she said. “Those herbs must be making your head funny, sir. Or it’s the wine. How much water have you drunk today?”
“Likely not enough.”
“Then I will fetch a pitcher and then you will sleep.”
“Of course.”
Lila’s quarters and bedroom were just off from his own. When she left him, she left the small door between their rooms ajar, the same way she used to after the war when he had night terrors. Idris lay, listening to the aria bells just outside his window, his nose filled with the fae jasmine’s soft night-time perfume, and he wondered if he had always been the luckiest man in the world and never noticed it before.