fit and consequently suffering from repressed urges. I had begun to dwell unnaturally on memories I thought myself free of. I longed to feel again smooth flesh beneath my fingers, to arch to pain and pleasure, to taste another’s skin and share warmth. My dreams were full of corrupted memories, people I had known then confused with people I knew now, things I had done then mixed up with things I longed to do now. I had to spend more and more time alone, walking on the beach or riding Xavier until I was exhausted. The king grunted that I should find a wife, that it was unhealthy for a man to suffer so without relief. I flushed and informed him in my best professional voice that weakness of the flesh was merely a sign of good health. He replied that a man could be too healthy, and maybe I should take a swim in the ocean….
I took his suggestion to heart, and he became that day my doctor and I his patient. Freezing northern water did the trick, and I slept more soundly that night and rose with a clear head. He was looking particularly well too. We looked at each other and knew it was time to return. We both realized neither of us was addressing an obvious concern: he was well because he had been removed from the reach of the poisoner. This enemy was still hidden from us, but he was back where we were heading—and presumably awaiting our return.
To be honest, I’m not sure which of us was dreading the return more.
CHAPTER 9
A T LEAST I now felt the king was well enough to be somewhat responsible for his own continued good health. He had agreed not to eat or drink anything that had not been tested by a number of people. I had already demanded that all his bedding be changed, so I felt confident that he was safe for me to leave for a while, so I could return to my own apartment and make myself respectable.
Stephen was waiting for me, as the guards had alerted him to our return. I dispatched him for some hot water and stripped off my filthy clothes. I was startled by my own reflection. I was extremely lean and, with my new shorn hair, almost a stranger, even to myself. I heard the door and turned, expecting Stephen and the water, to find Aleksey striding toward me. He swept me up in a hug and kissed hard onto the side of my head, as if I were a beloved brother returned from far longer than a month’s exile. He immediately held me off, considering my new look with astonishment.
“What have you done to your…? Are you entering a monastery? Taking holy orders?”
I huffed, grabbed my shirt, and pulled it back over my head. The tails hung just low enough for decency. “Your father accuses me of being a heathen. Why are we discussing my hair? And remember—we agreed about the knocking thing?”
He laughed and punched me on the arm. “You’ve cured my father. I’ve just seen him. He looks… almost as good as you.”
I was very grateful to be compared to an old man who had only just survived death and told him so, but he was clearly in too good a mood to be deflected from it by anything I said. I caught some of his excitement. Indeed, I had my own excitement enough from his hug and kiss, and turned my back to him as he paced around. Fortunately Stephen arrived with the requested water, which gave me a legitimate excuse to keep my back to the room as I shaved.
I had expected Aleksey to leave, but he seemed to find my ablutions fascinating—or he was too bored to actually bother to go. Instead he flung himself on my bed and proceeded to ask many questions about my month away. He managed to make it sound as if I had been to a spa for my health, and I quickly disabused him of this notion, telling him some of the agonies involved in the removal of poison. At the first mention of the more messy aspects of the cure, he paled, became noticeably squeamish, and quickly changed the subject. I asked him, smiling privately, what he had been up to while I had been away. This subject clearly interested him much more, and I
I took his suggestion to heart, and he became that day my doctor and I his patient. Freezing northern water did the trick, and I slept more soundly that night and rose with a clear head. He was looking particularly well too. We looked at each other and knew it was time to return. We both realized neither of us was addressing an obvious concern: he was well because he had been removed from the reach of the poisoner. This enemy was still hidden from us, but he was back where we were heading—and presumably awaiting our return.
To be honest, I’m not sure which of us was dreading the return more.
CHAPTER 9
A T LEAST I now felt the king was well enough to be somewhat responsible for his own continued good health. He had agreed not to eat or drink anything that had not been tested by a number of people. I had already demanded that all his bedding be changed, so I felt confident that he was safe for me to leave for a while, so I could return to my own apartment and make myself respectable.
Stephen was waiting for me, as the guards had alerted him to our return. I dispatched him for some hot water and stripped off my filthy clothes. I was startled by my own reflection. I was extremely lean and, with my new shorn hair, almost a stranger, even to myself. I heard the door and turned, expecting Stephen and the water, to find Aleksey striding toward me. He swept me up in a hug and kissed hard onto the side of my head, as if I were a beloved brother returned from far longer than a month’s exile. He immediately held me off, considering my new look with astonishment.
“What have you done to your…? Are you entering a monastery? Taking holy orders?”
I huffed, grabbed my shirt, and pulled it back over my head. The tails hung just low enough for decency. “Your father accuses me of being a heathen. Why are we discussing my hair? And remember—we agreed about the knocking thing?”
He laughed and punched me on the arm. “You’ve cured my father. I’ve just seen him. He looks… almost as good as you.”
I was very grateful to be compared to an old man who had only just survived death and told him so, but he was clearly in too good a mood to be deflected from it by anything I said. I caught some of his excitement. Indeed, I had my own excitement enough from his hug and kiss, and turned my back to him as he paced around. Fortunately Stephen arrived with the requested water, which gave me a legitimate excuse to keep my back to the room as I shaved.
I had expected Aleksey to leave, but he seemed to find my ablutions fascinating—or he was too bored to actually bother to go. Instead he flung himself on my bed and proceeded to ask many questions about my month away. He managed to make it sound as if I had been to a spa for my health, and I quickly disabused him of this notion, telling him some of the agonies involved in the removal of poison. At the first mention of the more messy aspects of the cure, he paled, became noticeably squeamish, and quickly changed the subject. I asked him, smiling privately, what he had been up to while I had been away. This subject clearly interested him much more, and I
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