He Chose the Wrong Sister novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: What the Physician Remembered

Cade's POV

I told my wife I was going to the capital to pay my respects to a sick girl.

She looked at me for a long time over the breakfast table and said, "Come back."

That was all.

It was the first thing she had asked of me that wasn't a term.

I rode four days with it in my chest, and I didn't like how much room it took.

I had married a stranger in a chapel because she asked me plainly, and because she had the steadiest left hand in the south.

Then I had sat on a kitchen table and watched that hand put green stitches into my arm, and I had stopped thinking about the Northmarch for a quarter of an hour.

She had come to my door and broken her own terms, and I had thought, she'll leave me when she has her name back.

A woman who picks a wall to stand behind doesn't stay once the storm is over.

I was thirty-two, and I knew it.

But she looked at me with a grief she had no reason to have yet, and I couldn't make that fit.

The royal surgeon lived behind the apothecaries' row, in two rooms over a candle shop.

He was an old man with thin white hair and ink on his fingers, and he opened the door in his shirt sleeves.

"Lord Garrow," he said. "The one who disliked the prince."

"I dislike nobody. I disagree with him."

"That's what I said." He let me in. "You want something. Nobody climbs my stairs for the company."

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