Chapter 4: The Same Silver

The king woke all at once.

He sat up with the blanket clutched at his hips and stared at the room.

Then he looked at her, kneeling three feet away with her hair on end.

"Good morning," Shiori said, very politely.

Both his ears went flat.

"I didn't..." He stopped and started again. "Did I hurt you?"

"No."

"Did I..." He shut his mouth.

"You came in because I asked you to. You lay down. You were the best patient I've had in this country."

Something that was almost a laugh came out of him, rough and short.

He pulled the blanket tighter and looked at the ceiling.

"I remember some of it," he said. "I remember your hands."

"And the cat?"

"The cat." He winced. "I remember the cat."

She put the kettle on, mostly to give him somewhere to look that wasn't her.

"The mark on your back," she said to the kettle. "It's the same as mine."

"Yes."

"A priest did that to you."

"A priest did that to me, a long time ago, in the south."

"Is that why you howl?"

"Yes."

"Is that why mine burned last night?"

"Yes." His voice dropped. "It burns every dusk, and it gets worse the longer you stay away from the Temple."

He set his jaw.

"That's all it is, healer. A leash."

She turned around.

"You said that very flatly."

"I've had twelve years to practice."

"What happens if I go back and kneel?"

"It stops." He looked at her, brown eyes steady. "And then you belong to them."

Shiori stood up and set a cup of tea in front of him, and sat down on the other side of it.

"I'm not going back," she said.

"I know."

"So I'll be burning every night."

"Not alone," he said, and then he shut his mouth hard, as if the words had gotten out before he'd approved them.

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