“Lady Pheresa,” he said, wincing, “is she—”

“Fret not,” Sulein said. “She lives, and that is enough. You must rest and regain your strength.”

“From two dagger cuts?” Dain said in scorn. “You make too much of them. I—” He started to sit upright, and found himself too weak to do it. Alarmed, he frowned at the physician. “What ails me?”

Sulein finished tying off the bandage on Dain’s ribs and rearranged his sleeping robe. Pulling the covers back up to Dain’s chest, he paused and met Dain’s eyes.  His own dark ones were very serious. “Your majesty nearly bled to death. The wrist gave us much trouble in stopping the bleeding, and your dark clothing concealed your other wound until it was almost too late. You must learn to tell your companions of your injuries. I realize it is the eldin way to seek no help for hurts and ailments, but this you must overcome.”

Dain frowned, staring at the heavy bandage encircling his forearm.  “In addition, it was believed at first that you had also taken the poison. The cup was half empty before the lady drank from it.”

“No,” Dain said impatiently. “I spilled it in the crowd.”

“Ah, yes. A simple explanation for what has been a great puzzlement. The king was determined to put you in the care of his own physicians, which would never do.” Sulein raised his brows at Dain. “Would it, your majesty?” “Stop calling me that,” Dain said in irritation. “No, it would not do. Thank you for your help, Sulein. It seems I owe you much.”

The physician smiled and inclined his head in acknowledgment before rubbing his hands briskly together. “Not as much as soon you will owe me.” Dain ignored the remark. “It’s eldin poison.”

“I know.”

“How?”

Sulein smiled modestly. “I tested the stains on your sleeve and found the dose a lethal one. You are fortunate you did not drink it.”

“But Pheresa... she’s not eldin. It shouldn’t affect her the same.” “It has not,” Sulein replied. “The poison is acting very slowly on her system, which is fortunate, because the court physicians are fools and took far too long to discern the problem.” He frowned. “They would not permit me to be of assistance, though I have had more experience in such exotic illnesses than they.”

Dain sat up, wincing and holding his side.

Sulein gripped his shoulders and shook his head. “You must not get up. You are too weak.”

“But this is ridiculous,” Dain said in frustration. “She’s the one who needs tending, not I! She—” “They are taking good care of her now,” Sulein said. “Do not fret.” “But is she all right? Is she recovering?”

“Lie down. Please.”

Dain saw that Sulein was not going to answer his questions until he cooperated.

Sighing, he allowed himself to sink back onto his pillows.  “Good. Now, it would be wise if you rested a while—” “Sulein, tell me!”

“If you insist. She is very ill.” Sulein held up his hand to forestall Dain’s questions. “The action of the poison has been halted, yes, yes. But the lady cannot stay indefinitely in such a state of suspension. A cure must be found for her.”

“What kind of cure?” Dain whispered, feeling cold to his marrow.

“Rest now. You are tired.”

Dain glared at him. “What kind of cure? Why will you not tell me all?” Sulein sighed and spread out his hands in a shrug. “What cure exists for eldin poison? Perhaps the eld folk know. I do not. The physicians here do not. The inevitable has been delayed for a few weeks at the most. It is a respite for her, yes. But the priests here are far too optimistic about her chances of recovery. They think she has much time, but it is not so. If something is not done very, very soon, the lady will die.”

Grief jolted Dain. “No!” he whispered.

Sulein placed his hand on his heart and bowed. “I am very sorry.” By evening, Dain was able to eat his supper of broth and bread without assistance. As the tray was cleared away, Thum came in with an eager face, carrying a gaming board.

“They say you’re feeling better. I thought you might like a game of tables.”

Dain agreed without much interest, and Thum set up the pieces on his bed.  “It’s marvelous news, Dain—um, I mean, your majesty. I never dreamed that you were really a king. If you could have seen Sir Terent’s face ... A feather would have knocked him over.”

Deep within his own thoughts and worry, Dain finally began to pay attention to Thum’s chatter. “What are you saying?”

Thum froze with a playing piece in his hand. His freckled face turned red, and he gulped. “Your majesty, if I’ve said something I shouldn’t, I beg your pardon.”

“Aye, you have!” Dain shoved the pieces off the bed so that they went flying in all directions. “What is Sulein doing, telling you such—” “Stop!” Thum said, preventing him from getting up. “You must stay in bed. You’re too weak.”

Dain shoved Thum’s hands away, then winced and gripped the side of the bed to keep himself from falling over. A wave of weakness washed through his legs, making them tremble. Clenching his fists, he tried to will some strength into his body. “Damne,” he whispered.

Thum ran to the door. “Sir Terent!” he called. “Help me.” The protector came bursting into Dain’s bedchamber, his face red with alarm. He was in time to catch Dain as he attempted to stand.

“Nay, sire,” he said, his strong arms steadying Dain. “Your knees won’t hold you yet. Better lie back now. Easy. We don’t want those wounds to reopen.” Furious and too weak to do anything about it, Dain was forced back into bed. He lay there with his eyes half-closed, shivering and wretched. “I must get up,” he said. “I have things to do.”

“They’ll wait, majesty.”

“Stop calling me that!” Dain snapped. He glared at both Thum and Sir Terent.