Chapter 18: Not Burning

The doctor pressed two cold fingers to my wrist and counted under her breath.

It was the same table, the same white room off the east gallery, and the same lamp hanging over my head.

"Banked," the doctor said at last.

"What does that mean?"

"It means the fever is lying down."

The doctor lifted the fingers from my wrist.

"The Stone's gold put it to sleep, and your King's hands keep it there. You aren't burning, Elsie. Not tonight."

I sat up on the table.

For eight months I had not gone one hour without the heat under my skin.

Now there was only my own pulse, and the cool air, and Thane standing by the door.

"Then it isn't the fever," I said.

"What isn't?"

"This."

I looked across the room at him.

The doctor looked at him too, and then at me, and picked up a bag.

"I'll be in the east gallery for one hour," the doctor said. "I am very deaf, and I've been deaf since the day you were born, Majesty."

The door shut behind her.

Thane didn't move.

"You aren't burning," he said.

"No."

"Then there's no reason for..."

"Thane."

He stopped.

"Come here," I said. "I'm giving three orders, and you're going to follow every one."

His eyes went dark.

He came across the floor and stood in front of the table, close enough that I could feel his heat on my knees.

"First order," I said. "Take your shirt off."

He pulled it over his head.

The wound sat under his collar.

I put my palm over it, flat and gentle, and felt him shudder.

"Second," I said. "Lie me back."

He laid a hand behind my head and lowered me onto the table, slowly.

The wood was cool through my shift.

He braced himself over me, and his shadow covered the lamp.

"And the third?" he said, in a voice gone rough.

I took hold of his wrists and drew his hands down to my knees.

"Open them," I said. "Slowly."

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