I almost regretted making such a scene about the salt. Even if the ghosts made their way inside, it would be nearly impossible to find me.
At one junction, I stopped to stare at a set of closed double doors. At least ten feet tall, their lacquered white surface gleamed with flourishes of gold trim. Twin bulls served as door handles, with jewel-encrusted rings hanging from their nostrils.
“Do keep up,” Aloysius prompted before heading up a set of stairs.
My footsteps fell too loudly on the treads, and it sounded as though there were a dozen of me racing behind the valet. We passed the first landing, then the second, and I tried to take deep breaths without sounding as though I was gasping for air.
When Aloysius opened a door on the fourth-floor landing and another long white hallway greeted us, I tried not to show my dismay. How on earth would I ever find my way around such a place?
“Your room,” he said, outside one of a dozen identical doors.
I turned the hammered brass knob, pushing the door open. The room was stark and unassuming. An oil lamp burned on a side table, illuminating a narrow bed and one chair. An armoire far too grand and large to have been originally intended for the servants’ wing took up the bulk of one side of the room. The window was covered by curtains of a serviceable twill.
My belongings lined one wall, the footmen already long gone.
“The washroom is three doors down,” Aloysius prompted. “I’ll return in half an hour’s time. Will that suit you?”
The whirlwind of the afternoon had finally caught up with me, and I wanted nothing more than to face-plant on the uncomfortable-looking bed and go to sleep. But there was work to do. “Half an hour,” I agreed.
The valet turned to leave.
“Monsieur Clément, wait!” He paused, his back still toward me. “I don’t want to walk into this completely unaware. What can you tell me of the Shivers? Is it like pneumonia?”
“Do you think we would have summoned you over a simple cold?” His voice was not unkind, but his answer did flare my irritation.
“The sweats?” He offered no response, and I paused, biting my lip before daring to say the worst. “The plague?”
Aloysius faced me. His pale eyes flickered over me with a curious pity. “No. It’s not like the plague.”
A sigh of relief whistled through my teeth.
“I’m afraid it’s far, far worse.”
Chapter 23
The mirror in the washroomwas only big enough for me to see one aspect of myself at any moment.
But it didn’t matter where I checked. I looked terrible from every angle, nervous and pale. I adjusted the mirror and caught sight of wayward hairs poking from my crown of braids. I caught them with my last pin, then brushed furiously at my skirts. The hem was dotted six inches deep with flecks of mud. I’d clearly been traveling for most of the day. The dozens of freckles that splashed across my cheeks stood out in stark contrast to my ashen skin, and my eyes looked too big and weary. The voice of the prince echoed in my mind across the years as I studied the hateful dots speckling my face. I pinched my cheeks, trying to bring them some color.
“It doesn’t matter how many freckles you have,” I said, scolding away the anxiety clutching my throat. “You’re here because you can treat the king. You’re here because you’re theonly onewho can.”
Once my sad attempt at a pep talk was over, I nodded to my reflection and left the washroom.
Aloysius was already in the hall, standing at attention, and I feltmy heart race, wondering if I was running behind or if he was the type to forever be arriving early. There was another footman at his heels, waiting with a wheeled cart.
The valet’s eyes swept over me as he counted every one of my faults. “I never expected a healer blessed by the gods to look so…rumpled,” he finally said.
Shame burned my cheeks, but I straightened my spine. “I’m sure the court doctors and oracles all wear much flashier attire,” I began, attempting to keep my tone flat. “If you’d prefer I dress in something else while attempting saving the king’s life, I’d be happyto—”
Aloysius brushed off my rancor with an uninterested flash of his hand. “Gervais will bring any supplies you might need.” He gestured to the cart.
I hurried back to my chamber and brought out the trunks of medicines and my leather valise. Gervais stacked them on the cart before whisking off with it, presumably taking it to the king’s quarters.
“Follow me,” Aloysius intoned.
I tried to keep track of the number of doors between mine and the end of the corridor but lost count somewhere around twelve or thirteen. The endless uniformity left my head throbbing.
We turned down a short hall before coming to another staircase. I peeked down the open middle, dizzy at the sight of so many steps, but mercifully, Aloysius stopped on the first landing. Sets of guards flanked another jeweled door, armed with halberds. Though archaic, the weapons still looked alarmingly serviceable.
