Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 19.1 - Leavi

The infirmary swells with the fresh flood of injured soldiers. Men spill out from the two sick bays into the main room, lying on the examination table, on cots, on the floor. The thick tang of copper and the acrid sting of smoke hang heavy in the air. Maids bustle among the men, along with the two physicians, fixing bandages, administering medicine, pulling sheets over closed eyes...

I weave through, shoving out into the cool and quiet of the hall. The door swings shut behind me, and my heart thrums in my ears. They've been at it since I came home for dinner last night, wave after wave of survivors from yesterday's battle pouring in. I know it's not the same, I know, but the crowded room, the moans and screams, the frantic doctors knowing they can't save everyone—or maybe anyone—throws me back into Karsix. I'm staring through a glass window at dying patients, there to observe and hypothesize. I'm testing blood sample after blood sample in the research lab, begging the test tube to give me a result. And then I'm fleeing through a district of the dead, muffler pulled over my mouth, afraid to breathe.

No matter what world you live in, death is inescapable.

I push against the ground with long strides, leaving the infirmary behind. You have another job to do. It still feels like running away, and my chest stings with shame.

The castle is quieter today. Courtiers glance out ceiling-high windows at the barren courtyard, and the deadness there infects us all. It's strange after yesterday, when spirits were high and people laughed and planned and complained like nothing was happening. Now that their soldiers sit quiet among the crenellations rather than fight, the people's steps are shuffles and their voices murmurs.

I think they believed the fight would end in triumph and glory. Instead, all they earned was blood and fear.

In a quiet, inner drawing room, I pass a note to a Lady and wait for her response. Instead, she tears it in half and slaps it onto the small table beside her. I freeze, not wanting to draw her anger to me instead of the paper.

"What is it, Valaecití?" asks the woman next to her.

Valaecití sighs. "All of this is insane! To think, he wants a full coronation in the middle of a war. A full coronation!"

I consider edging out, but it wouldn't be the first time I've been ignored only for the recipient to turn around and suddenly expect me to be there.

The second woman blows on her tea. "The times are a bit inconvenient. But you did agree to help arrange—"

"Ah, don't remind me, Misanette." Valaecití leans back into the couch, twisting a ring around her finger. "I'm regretting it already." The ring spins and spins again. "I mean, no matter how well we do, it's going to be the shabbiest coronation in a thousand years' history, and we'll be the ones blamed for it."

"Oh, it can't be as bad as all of that. Keep courage. We'll do our job, and we'll do it well."

Misanette smiles, and as she turns to take a sip of her drink, the other woman rolls her eyes. "Well, no one's set a date yet, have they?"