“I’m fine, thank you. You can step aside so that I might retire to my quarters.”
“If you are sure I cannot be of service.” Sybil did step aside, even bowed her head, but an amused smile lingered on her lips as Winter brushed past her. Jacin stayed with her, step for step, applying pressure to the cheek that she had not dared touch. It hadn’t stopped stinging, and the pain was a persistent reminder of what she had endured and the choices she had made. She would never regret those choices, scars or no.
“Who did this?” Jacin demanded as Winter shoved through her bedroom door, leaving her personal guard outside.
“I did, of course,” she said, to which he stared, aghast. She snorted bitterly. “My hand did.”
His eyes blazed, full of murder. “The queen?”
She had only to stay silent to confirm it.
Rage cascaded over his face, but he turned away too fast for Winter to appreciate the depth of it. He pulled her into the powder room and set her on the edge of the tub. Within minutes, he had cleaned the wounds and applied a generous amount of healing salve.
“I shouldn’t have left you,” he muttered through gnashed teeth as he applied a makeshift bandage of cotton strips. Winter was impressed that he was able to keep his hands so calm, while his expression was so furious.
He would make a great doctor.
“You had no choice,” she said. “Neither of us did.”
“Why would she do this to you? Is she jealous?”
She met his flashing gaze. “Why would the queen be jealous of me?”
His anger sizzled. “How does this benefit her?”
“She said that she wanted me to learn to use my gift, so that I would stop making a mockery of the crown. She thought that if I … she thought this would motivate me to learn to use my glamour.”
Understanding dawned on his face. “To hide the scars.”
She nodded. “I also think she wanted to remind me that I’m … that I belong to her. That I’m nothing but a pawn in her game, to be used as she sees fit.” She slumped, letting go of the composure she’d fought so hard for. “But I am not her pawn. I refuse to be.”
Jacin stood with his hands strangling a towel for a long moment, looking like he wanted to keep working, keep cleaning, keep bandaging, but he’d already done all he could. Finally, with a huff, he sat beside her on the tub’s edge. His anger was fading, replaced with guilt. “If she thinks you’re intentionally not using your gift, she might see it as rebellious.” His tone was subdued now, though his fingers showed no mercy to the towel. “I think she is jealous. Because people like you. They respect you. And you don’t have to manipulate them for it.”
“I’m not trying to do anything,” said Winter. “I just … I just don’t want to be like her. Like them!”
Jacin smiled, but it was tired. “Exactly. What could be more threatening than that?”
She sagged further, settling her face into her hands, careful not to press against her stinging cheek. Then she frowned and peered up at Jacin from the corner of her eye. “What did Thaumaturge Mira want?”
He inhaled sharply. For a moment she thought he wouldn’t say anything, but finally he spoke. “She came to tell me that I would need to find new housing accommodations if my plan is to stay in Artemisia until my internship begins next year.”
Her brow creased. “New housing? Why wouldn’t you stay here in the palace?”
“Because my parents are leaving.”
She straightened.
“My father’s been transferred to one of the outer sectors, as a security guard.”
Her heart thumped. “A demotion? But … why?”
Jacin started to shake his head, but then stopped and met her gaze, and instantly Winter knew why.
She was spending too much time with this boy.
She was in love with this boy.
And that would not fit into Levana’s perfectly constructed plans for her. That could cause problems for the queen and whatever alliance she planned to cement using Winter’s hand as the purchase price.
Send his family away, and the boy would leave too.
She pressed a hand over her mouth.
“My parents don’t seem to mind,” said Jacin. “I think they’re both relieved to be getting out of Artemisia. All the politics.” And the manipulations, he didn’t say, but didn’t have to.
“You’re leaving me,” she breathed.
Jacin pursed his lips. He looked terrified as he snaked his hand beneath her arm, entwining their fingers together. Their hands fit like a lock and key. It had been years since they had simply held hands, and she wished they had never stopped.
“No,” he said. “I’m not leaving you.”
She raised her eyes. There was a determined set to his jaw that surprised her. “But where will you go, if you can’t stay here?” she asked. “And besides, when your internship starts you’ll have to leave anyway, and then…”
“Thaumaturge Mira gave me another option. Or…” He gulped. “The queen gave me another option. They’ve invited me to join the palace guard. I could begin training as early as next week.”
Her eyes widened and she yanked her hand away. “No. No. Jacin, you can’t. What about being a doctor? What about—”
“I could stay with you, Winter. I could stay here in the palace.”
“Until they send you off to one of the outer sectors, you mean.”
“They won’t do that.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’ll be the most loyal guard Her Majesty has ever known.”
His expression was withdrawn. Haunted.
Winter’s hand went slack in his grip.
Levana would threaten her, maybe even threaten her life.
Maybe she already had, which was how they’d gotten Jacin to consider it in the first place.
He would do anything they asked if he thought he was protecting her.
“You know how we all take aptitude tests in year fourteen?” Jacin said, unable to look at her. “I tested high for a potential pilot role. Thaumaturge Mira said she could use me as her personal guard and transporter.”
“No, Jacin. You can’t. If you do this, you’ll never be able to get out.”
Releasing her hand, he stood up and began pacing the powder room floor. “I don’t know what else to do. I can’t leave you here, especially now, after this.” He waved a hand toward her cheek and Winter placed her palm over the washcloth. The blood hadn’t yet soaked through.
“I don’t want you to be a guard, Jacin. Not after … what happened to my father…” Her voice cracked.
Killed by a thaumaturge, with no hope at all of defending himself. Because he was weak. Jacin was weak. She was weak.
Against the queen and her court, they had no hope at all.
Pawns. Just pawns.
“I think you should go,” she said.
He stared at her, hurt.
“With your parents, I mean. I think you should go with them. In a year, apply for your medical internship and be the doctor you’ve always wanted to be. This is what you want, Jacin. To help people. To save people.”
“Winter, I…”
She gasped, her gaze catching on the wall over Jacin’s shoulder. A frosted-glass window was there, letting in enough daylight to make the entire room glow rosy and gold.