More Scars and more castle intrigue! Preview below, full chapter at the link.
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“He woke up moments before I arrived,” Annathel told him. “Without anyone else to tend to him, Sister Tranik could not leave.”
The doctor grunted in acknowledgement, elbowing his way past the elves and eliciting a soft hiss from Khy-kala when he nudged Sie-thyne out of the way to take her place beside the king’s bed. The apothecary withdrew wordlessly, standing at the back of the room.
Zevain tutted, hmmed and spoke in hushed comments, most of which were directed to himself as he checked over the king. There was nothing lax or unskillful about his work and he seemed outwardly pleased, but Roskin thought she could sense a sourness from the physician. Perhaps she was just reading too much into the situation, and this was just the man’s pride being tweaked once again.
“Your Highness,” the doctor said at last, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Your condition remains concerning, but you have improved admirably.”
“Thanks to Sie-thyne’s assistance,” Annathel noted.
“Yes,” Zevain noted. “About that.” He looked over his shoulder, then slowly came to his feet, his eyes locked squarely on Sie-thyne. “I would very much like to know more about this… miracle cure.”
The she-elf blinked slowly. “I imagine you might.”
When he realized he was not going to get any further explanation, Zevain stiffened. “Perhaps the next time you treat our king, I should remain in order to observe the procedure. I am certain it would be educational. We could doubtless learn a lot from a… woman of your skills.”
Sie-thyne looked down at the human. “I made it clear once already that I will treat your king, but in my own way, and with the privacy I was promised.”
“This is my patient,” Zevain snapped. “Not yours. I have been treating and tending to him since he was a young boy. I have fought every hour of the day for weeks to save his life, balancing medical treatments against the vagaries of magic. Now you come in with… with rumour and some unknown heathen elixir and expect us to take whatever you’ve done on faith? I have the right to know what you’ve done to him.” He’d heard stories of dark conjurings and blood rites in elven potioncrafting. A ‘miracle cure’ bought through blasphemy and corruption was neither of those.
“I will not argue with you,” Sie-thyne told him. “I didn’t come to you – your kingdom sought my help, and I made my terms clear from the moment I arrived. I will do everything in my power to aid your king, but I will not share my methods. You will accept that or I will leave.”
“And if I say to the men here that you should remain until you are forthcoming about the nature of this… treatment?”
Khy-kala raised her head slightly as she spoke for the first time since entering the room. “If we are discussing hypotheticals,” the pale she-elf said, “then that would be a very unfortunate thing to say.” She didn’t move so much as an inch, but her stillness radiated a sudden and terrible threat.
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Proximal Flame's Fiction 