The Sleeping Prince - Melinda Salisbury Page 0,119

yourself up.” He stands without offering me his hand. “I think we’ll ask your Silas to dine with us tonight. What do you think of that, sweetling?” I stay silent, my heart beating strongly as I wait for the punchline. With Aurek there’s always a punchline.

“Of course, he’d have to be carried. And fed. It would be quite unsightly, really. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind though. You wouldn’t, would you? You took care of your mother when she ailed; it’s not so different. Of course your mother still had the use of her arms and legs, though she chose not to use them. Whereas poor Silas … he has no choice.”

“Stop…” I whisper, my mouth filling with the strange taste that heralds vomiting.

“I’d like to see it.” His voice is deeper, as though the idea pleases him. “You, cutting his meat, raising a fork to his mouth. Waiting for him to chew and swallow. Wiping his mouth for him.” Each word is like a needle, puncturing me. “I don’t know how far the Nigredo has advanced up his legs. Last I knew it was below the knee, but now … it could be up to his thighs. I wonder whether he’ll choose to stand or sit for the rest of his life? What would you choose, Errin? Sitting or standing?”

I can’t help myself; I vomit. Heaving and gagging as my stomach empties itself on my ruined dress, on the floor.

He takes a step back and I can hear the disgust in his voice. “You’re a mess. Go and bathe. I’ll have a new dress sent for you to dine in.”

His boots stalk away, his footsteps ringing across the ballroom. Then they squeal against the wooden floor as he turns back to me.

“Ah, I am a fool. I can’t invite him for dinner. He won’t have time. He has to make more Elixir to replace what I used on you. Still, I suppose he won’t mind, seeing as it saved your life. Take her to her room,” he orders a hidden person in the corner of the ballroom.

The door clicks neatly behind him as he leaves and salty tears join the mess of blood and vomit on the once-beautiful dress.

Silently, the servant appears from his station in the shadows, dressed in a rough grey tabard and matching breeches. He stands over me, his dark eyes full of sympathy. His hair is shorn close to his skull, his jaw set as he offers a hand to help me up. I knock it away. I want no help from a coward who bends his knee to the Sleeping Prince to save his skin.

Like I did.

“Forgive me,” he says, stepping back to give me room to stand.

I haul myself up and smooth down the dress. I wonder if it was one of Twylla’s, and then I wonder how she is, where she is. I hope she got away, far, far away from here. I look down at the gown and crumple the skirts in my fists. I wonder if she ever danced in this room.

I walk slowly from the room. Even though I’m no longer injured, my mind is telling me to be careful, that I’m still hurt. The guards at the door don’t look at me as I pass. The servant trails behind me, his presence an annoyance all the way down the corridor. When we reach the south tower, he makes as if to escort me up to my bedroom. I try to slam the door in his face but he wedges himself in the gap.

“Move,” I order, and he shakes his head, holding a finger to his lips and pointing down the stairs.

“I said move.” I say it louder, but the servant stands his ground, refusing my command.

“I need to talk to you,” he whispers. “Please. I have but a few moments. You’ll want to listen to me.”

I look at him, then shrug, turning away as he closes the door.

“Well?” I ask, looking back at him.

“Is Twylla still alive?” His eyes are wide, his body leaning towards mine with the earnestness of his question. “Do you know where she is? Please. If you know anything…”

“As if I’d tell you, traitor.”

“Are you still a friend to her?”

I stay silent, watching him.

“All right. Are you a friend to the Sleeping Prince?”

I look down at the ruined dress.

The servant nods as though I’ve spoken. “Why did you stab him? You know it won’t kill him.”

“Because it makes me feel better,” I spit, immediately wishing I