Free The Poison Throne by Celine Kiernan

her father, straightening carefully and gripping his chair again. “A laugh is as good as a tonic!”
    Razi took a deep breath and looked pointedly into Lorcan’s eyes. His next words stole Lorcan’s grin from him and blew a whistling hole through Wynter’s chest. “The humours have gathered in your heart, good friend. I can hear them in there, interrupting the ebb and flow of your body’s tides. Such impediments are not to be trifled with. You must pay heed to my instructions, Lorcan. Your life depends on it.”
    Her father’s heart. His heart. Wynter remembered lying on his chest as a small child, listening to the swish and flow of that engine, working steady and eternal beneath her infant ear. Lulling her to sleep, telling her all is well, all is well, all is well .
    Lorcan gazed at Razi, then over at Wynter, his green eyes bright. He smiled and shrugged as if to say, we knew this already, didn’t we, darling? He winked at Wynter and she tried to smile back at him. Ever since she could remember, her father had worked hard to make sure Wynter would be able to take care of herself if he wasn’t around. He had done a good job of it, and now at last they were home, and he had finally returned her to the safest place on earth, a place where neither her sex nor commoner birth would stand against her. He wasn’t afraid to die. But despite it all, despite the talking, the planning, all the preparation for a life alone, Wynter did not want him to leave. She could not imagine going on without his huge smiling affection in her life.
    Razi got to his feet. “Now,” he said, “I want you to let Christopher and me help you bathe and get you to bed for a few hours before the banquet.” Lorcan opened his mouth to protest, his eyes wide with indignation. “Lorcan!” Razi interrupted before the other man could speak. “You cannot do this alone, not at the moment. Just bite back your pride, man, and let us aid you this once. I’m going to give you a draught and it will help you sleep deeply for a short time. You’ll wake much refreshed, and I think, if you take it slow and remain calm, you’ll get through this bloody festivity without too much strain.”
    What could he do? With a last, rueful look at Wynter, Lorcan allowed the two men to lead him into his chamber, and, when the water came, they helped him to scrub himself clean of the filth of his long journey, and climb at last into bed.
    Wynter sat alone in the round chair for the longest time, listening to the low rumble of the men’s voices and watching the light move around the walls as the evening drew down. When her father had fallen asleep, Christopher and Razi took their leave of her. Razi kissed her and promised to return before the banquet.
    The scent of oranges gave way to the evening fragrance of woodbine and lilies as the shadows grew in the gardens below. The corridor outside began to fill with sound as the air cooled and people began to rouse themselves, or come in from the river to dress for the big event.
    Wynter thought of nothing at all. There was nothing that could be of any use. So she let the time flow through her and it was as though she slept for a while, though she knew she did not.
    Razi had promised to call her in time to dress, but she got herself up and out of the chair long before he returned, and wandered into her room to try to find something to wear. She had one light coat, one heavy. Two dress uniforms, one of which still lay in a pestilent heap on the floor. One heavy work uniform, three pair of long johns, three shifts, two night caps, four pair of wool stockings, one pair of cotton stockings, two long knickers and a soft fine-wool dress suitable for informal dining in company. She had no formal clothes whatsoever, nothing suitable to wear in the presence of a king.
    Razi had put her mother’s camphor chest into Wynter’s room, and now she understood the reason why.
    One at a time, she took her mother’s dresses from their layers of