The Cursed Kingdom

THIRTEEN

~ NEEDLEWORK ~

"So, how was dinner with His Majesty?"

I rolled my eyes at her smirking face and leisurely swirled my spoon in my tea, watching the two cubes of brown sugar start to disintegrate at the bottom of the cup. "If you must know, it was quite the disaster." I knew I was over exaggerating, but my stubborn pride didn't allow me to care.

Ingrid's deft fingers stopped their movements on the quilt she was working on to look back up at me. She quirked a brow, a hint of disappointed surprise filling her eyes. "Oh, really? And the flowers?" She nodded towards the large, multicolored bouquet on the small pedestal beside my bed.

As soon as she was done speaking, Ingrid went back to her needlework, which I found to be quite fascinating and hypnotic to watch. The way her fingers moved so precise and gentle, a skill that revealed her many years of practice, painfully reminded me of my mother. If I focused hard enough, I could smell the distinct sweetness of burning cedar too.

"I love them," I replied, taking a delicate sip of my tea. It was still quite hot so I flinched when the brown liquid met the roof of my mouth. To mask the sting, I quickly grabbed a small pastry out of the basket Ingrid had brought for us both to enjoy. The fresh raspberry flavor summoned a hum of content. "Henrik says there'll be fresh flowers rotated in my room every week," I added with a little bit of pastry still in my mouth.

Ingrid cooed, staring at them. "I can assure you you've already got the king wrapped around your finger. Furkan told me His Majesty has nearly doubled the amount of guards around the palace for your protection."

For my protection or to keep me trapped in? I wanted to ask but stopped myself with a long sip from my cup. This time, the sting of the hot liquid was tolerable. There was a pause of silence as both of us nibbled on pastries while Ingrid sewed and I drank almost half of the tea in the kettle.

"Your mark looks better," Ingrid noted out of nowhere, eyeing the said part with observant, pleased eyes.

It did, indeed. When I'd looked in the mirror when getting ready for her arrival, I'd been stunned to see the redness nearly gone and there was barely any swelling left. The puncture wounds had nicely scabbed over as well so there was no more oozing and the pain was reduced to only a sting, the sensation equivalent to being pinched multiple times in the same area at once. But that only occurred in small bursts every few hours and everyday the pain reduced a little, which allowed me to finally get adequate rest every night.

As I sat there with Ingrid, I didn't feel any discomfort at all. I would have forgotten about my mark entirely if she hadn't mentioned it.

"I'll tell His Majesty that you need more of the salve," Ingrid said, causing me to nearly choke on my tea.

"No, no, that's not necessary," I rushed to say, gripping my cup harder out of nervousness. "It's already so much better. I doubt I'll even notice my mark by the end of the week."

Ingrid shook her head with a smile, giving me a look I couldn't use words to describe. It was the kind of look a parent would use on their child when trying to scold them for doing something unacceptable but held a tiny asset of humor. "Yes, it is better—because you're using it. Tell me, Raena: If you get cold and put on a jacket, do you take the jacket off once you're warm just to get cold again? Or do you leave it on to remain warm?"

I sighed in defeat and slightly slouched in my chair once it registered that she was right. "Alright." I nodded, my face becoming hot at just the idea of Henrik having to spare more of his saliva for the sole purpose of me to rub onto my skin. Also, Ingrid sending for more would infer I'd been using it...