She stood behind me and brushed my hair, smoothing it in gentle strokes. Not even my mother had treated my head with such a soothing touch when I was a child. I breathed deeply, the warm tea and medicines filling my belly and bringing a sense of wholeness back to my heart.
“Oh, that? Simple garden chamomile,” she said with a smile. “It probably grows wild in your fields.” She bent her face so I could see her grin. “But don’t tell your mother that, or she might not think you need me and my special brew next time.”
I laughed then, relaxing into a genuine smile for the first time in days. “And the tonic? What was in the water?”
Odile set my brush on the bedside table and gave me a wry frown. “Well, now you’re going to think I’m a complete fraud,” she said. “The tonic was concentrated ironpine sap with a tiny bit of honey. I dry the sap in the sun and then make a little bolus with honey. Nothing fancy, but you do feel better, do you not?”
I nodded, the smile still on my face. “Thank you,” I said. “And we really cannot pay you? Nothing at all for your time or your supplies? That doesn’t seem right.”
“You can repay me by walking me outside,” she said, gathering her things. “Your mother will be convinced I’m a brilliant healer if you’re well enough now to leave this room. And,” she added, touching a hand to my cheek, “try to get up tomorrow. Remember to speak kindly to your heart. It’s always listening.”
I nodded and slipped into my shoes. I laced my arm through hers and leaned close to her ear. “Thank you,” I said. “You are indeed a gifted healer. Even if I only required some kindness. And tea.”
She flushed, and together we took the stone steps down into the main hall.
“Miss Lombard! Are you well? You’ve had me worried into a state of sickness myself.” Butler Norwin was standing at the bottom of the steps looking in fact quite unwell. As I walked closer, I realized that was just the man’s normal coloring. After not seeing his sallow face for a few days, I’d forgotten how typically unpleasant his normal appearance was. “Miss Lestalinn.” Norwin nodded at Odile. “How is your sister?”
I looked from the butler to Odile. “How do you know the healer’s sister?” I asked.
“My younger sister used to be a guild scrivener,” Odile explained. “Not the one I mentioned. Brex is my sister by marriage, and Gia by blood. Gia retired her position when she married. Gia is quite well, thank you, Norwin. I’ll let her know we visited today.”
“Is Miss Lombard able to—”
Odile cut him off. “Yes, Norwin. Miss Lombard is making a full recovery. I’ve advised a little exertion and fresh air. She’ll walk just a short way with me. I’ll have my apprentice walk her back if she grows tired.”
I stifled a smile. She truly did know the man if she knew enough to cut him off.
“Hmmmmph.” The butler snorted. “That Serlo boy. I remember when he was a guild scrivener too. I suppose driving carts is work more suited to the likes of him.”
I caught the nastiness in his tone, but Odile did not even flinch.
“Yes,” she said brightly. “I like working with Flynnie very much. Good day, Norwin. Please let Lady Lombard know that I’m on my way out but am happy to return should she ever feel I might be useful.”
“I’ll be back, Norwin!” I called cheerily, following Odile into the sun.
The sunshine felt strange on my face, and I closed my eyes, taking in the warmth after so many days lying in my dark room. “Odile,” I asked, turning to her. “Do you heal horses? Our stable hand has a mare with a slight injury. I wonder if…”
The words died on my lips. A young boy with a flop of reddish-brown hair and the same crinkles at the corners of his eyes as Syndrian stood from his seat on a cart just a short distance away. We walked toward him, but the boy stared at me, his eyes huge and his mouth gaping open. If Odile noticed, she didn’t say anything about his unusual expression. She was going on about the horse, asking if I knew about the injury, if it was from a wound or simply from overuse.
I couldn’t answer, though, because as we drew close to the cart, I couldn’t shake the oddest sensation. I was certain I knew the driver somehow—although that seemed impossible. The boy leapt from the cart and walked slowly toward us, tugging at his hair and looking around as if seeking someone he could ask for help.
“Why don’t I stop by the stable before I leave?” Odile said. “I can tell you bit more about the children…”
“That’s quite all right,” I said, wanting to end the conversation and sort out exactly what was so strange about this boy. “I’ll send for you again if the mare doesn’t improve. Thank you, Odile.”
“All right, then,” she said, waving a hand. “Flynnie! Flynn, I’d like you to meet someone.”
The boy nodded, then yanked a hand from his hair and roughly thrust it out at me. Before Odile could say a word, he started running on. “Lady Pali, I mean, wow, I… It’s great to finally meet you.”
I shook the boy’s hand, wondering how he knew to call mePaliwhen Odile had not known. “How do you know my nickname?” I asked. Deep down I was hoping that maybe his brother had spoken of me at home, mentioned something about me. But the more the boy talked, the more I was certain that was not the case.
“I, uh, can’t say I knew that, miss. Lucky guess, I suppose. I’m a nickname guy. I’m fond of using nicknames, so… Right, then. Are you ready, Odile? We should, ah, get going back.” He spoke so quickly, I could hardly believe his lips kept up. He moved restlessly, like he was stuck in place and wanted to break into a run.
Odile looked at the boy with the same puzzled expression I was certain I had on my face. “All right, Flynnie.” She turned to me and opened her arms. “Be well, dear girl. Send for me anytime.” She gave me a smile and a long hug, then climbed into the cart.
“Bye, Lady Pali! Be, ah, well…” Flynn’s voice cracked as he bid me farewell, and it was then that I heard it. I knew exactly who Flynn was, how he knew me, and why he was so jittery and uncomfortable.
Flynn Serlo was the boy who’d delivered the ruined death mask to me.