Page 13 of The Sun King's Noon

Safe, Richard reminded himself. Briony was safe.

But for how much longer?

CHAPTER 6

Richard kept his back straight as he strode through the hallways, though his skin itched and the reek of blood was suffocating. Servants and nobles alike scurried out of his way, a few young maids unable to contain their gasps.

He barely noticed, his thoughts circling the fight again and again. The‘how’did not truly matter. ‘If a rat wants to slit your throat,’Haldric had always said, ‘it will find a way to reach you.No number of guards or gates will stop that. Whether it succeeds, however, depends on the speed of your sword.’

Butwhyhad the witches attacked? Why had they wanted to spill Briony’s blood? Was it Galdran? Had he, through his harpy, managed to communicate with an unregistered coven? Was he trying to cut through Richard’s siblings before the veil fell?

“Your Majesty!” Cook Shirley was leaving a corridor that led to the kitchens. Flour dusted her forearms, and stray curls escaped her bonnet. “By the gods, milord!”

“I am well.”

“That’s good.” Shirley’s voice wobbled. “I’ll have some broth sent to your chambers, milord.”

He should thank her. She’d always been kind to him. He’d been eight when he shyly confessed her honeycakes were thebest he’d ever had, and she’d baked a batch just for him every weekend. When she and William had wed, he’d even made a brief visit.

He should thank her.

But Richard could only nod. He brushed past and kept walking until he reached the bathing quarters in the lower ground, where vast pools overlooked the private eastern gardens. The waters steamed, heated by charmed hot stones beneath.

The boy in charge—a freckled youth with drowsy eyes—dipped into a bow, unperturbed by Richard’s state.

“Your Majesty.”

“I require fresh clothing,” Richard said. “Have it brought here, and ensure none enters while I am within.”

The boy nodded and closed the door behind him. Richard gazed at the garden as he removed his crown—somehow still wedged on—and undressed. The gated space bloomed with a mix of tulips, primroses and daffodils, and offered a distraction from his reflection in the pool. For when his eyes did glimpse it, the face that stared back looked like something out of a horror tale.

Richard got to work methodically. He scrubbed his arms, chest, and neck again and again until the water was stained red and his skin stung. Once done, he dressed in a bathing robe and waited on the bench. The only noise came from the lapping of water and the birdsong drifting from the garden.

He picked at the blood under his nails. He should return. He should question the sorcerer. He should check on Briony. He should?—

The door creaked.

Richard jerked, a hand darting to the dagger beside him. But it was only Lady Selwyn holding a bundle of clothes in her arms. She kicked the door shut with her heel and walked to his side.Her green healer pinafore was as immaculate as her grey bun, and her frown as stern as always.

“Any wounds, boy?” She placed his clean clothes down.

“None worth mentioning, my lady.”

“Is that so?” Selwyn clicked her fingers. “Open.”

Richard sighed and bared his chest. The line across his ribs smarted but had stopped bleeding.

Selwyn pressed her palm to it. Emerald light pooled, and Richard’s skin tingled as the wound knitted itself together.

“All done. It would scar otherwise.”

Richard peered down to find unbroken skin. “Father used to say scars were proof of the body’s will to survive.”

Selwyn rolled her eyes and reached for the towel. “Your father was certainly adept at saying things to you and dressing them as wisdom.” She circled behind him and began rubbing his hair dry. Her briskness was a far cry from his mother’s gentle towelling, but it soothed Richard all the same.

“I scared Briony,” he murmured. She’d never shrunk from him before.

“Yes, I saw the slaughter,” Selwyn said. “No matter. I will take a frightened child over a dead one. And you? Are you well?”