Page 11 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

Perhaps he didn’t realize that the girl he had rescued off of the streets of Valnar was one of his servants. Or that I was the same servant that he may have seen using magic in the library. I inhaled, my breath shuddering through my lips as if there was a weight on my chest. I should have bowed when I saw him tonight. Or averted my gaze at the very least. Instead, I swooned in his arms.

Oh gods. I scrubbed a hand down my face, recalling Mrs. Cathers’s warning earlier today. If she found out about any of this, I would be out on the street.

“The compress will be all?” came a voice from the threshold.

My eyes flew open. The King stood squarely beneath the doorframe, his expression unreadable.

The physician pulled himself to his feet with a groan, wagging his finger at me. “You have a mild concussion. You’ll need to monitor your symptoms and use a cold compress three times daily for no less than a half hour. If the pain worsens, or you experience anything odd, like memory loss, I will see you back here without delay.”

I repressed a sardonic retort. I certainly wouldn’t mind forgetting the events of this evening.

“And you’ll need rest, too. At least a few days.”

I nodded, although I had no intention of resting. Even if I could afford to miss work, I had no doubt that Mrs. Cathers would delight in forcing me to toil away with a head injury.

“Thank you for your services, doctor,” said the King. “The hour is late now, and I feel I must implore you to retire for the morning.”

The physician turned his back to me, squaring off with the King. “I suppose that is an invitation to leave my own office?”

King Mordric’s smile did not reach his eyes. “It is.”

He bowed, catching my eye as he reached the door. “You need rest,” he warned, closing it in his stead.

I stiffened as the King approached, unsure of what to do.

“I advise you not to ignore him,” he cautioned. He unfurled a thick cloth, one that had been sitting in the cold cellar for some time, I imagined. My grip tightened on the edge of the table as he silently and gently pressed it to my skull. The cold brought some relief, soothing the heated pulse pounding in my head.

I met his gaze and remembered myself, lowering my eyes once again. I felt exceedingly small in his presence. When he spoke, his voice was gentle.

“You can look at me, you know.”

I stiffened. According to Mrs. Cathers, I could not look the King of Valen in the eye. But, I supposed, if the King himself was telling me to … I glanced upward to see a smile playing on his lips.

“I imagine that you might have some questions for me,” he said. “As I do for you.”

My forehead creased in confusion. What could I know that a king did not? “Questions, Your Majesty?”

There was amusement in his voice as he said, “For instance, what business does a king have wandering the streets of Valnar?”

Staring into his depthless eyes, I tried to recall if vampires could read minds. I was fairly certain they could … “Your Majesty is free to spend his time wherever he chooses, of course.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Believe it or not, I’ve been suffering from a terrible amount of stress lately. Something about these dreadfully long council meetings puts me on edge. So I was running an errand for William, my seneschal, to clear my head.”

Now that I could relate to. “Oh?” I said. “I wouldn’t think that the King would run his own errands.” My eyes widened as I realized what I’d said and who I’d said it to.

He grinned. “I had to practically blackmail my guards to allow me to leave unaccompanied, but this errand was special. I commissioned Caleb Brummings to craft a blade for someone. A gift. I was on my way there when I heard the commotion in the alley.”

“A blade?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“A dagger, in fact,” he said. “I suppose I’ll have to send my seneschal to retrieve it another day.”

My gaze flicked to the satchel that I had abandoned by the door when we arrived. It was a miracle that it had even made it back with us. “This dagger,” I said. “It didn’t happen to have a serpent’s tail on the hilt, did it?”

His head cocked. “As a matter of fact, it did.”

I gestured to the satchel. “I was sent into Valnar to fetch a number of items for the seneschal. It wasn’t on my list, but Ewan—”

I swallowed, picturing the harrowing look in his eyes as he bore down on me in the alley. I inhaled a shaky breath. “Er, the blacksmith’s apprentice insisted that I take it.”