“What’s wrong with her?” the guard asked next, for Bitterblue was now leaning both hands on the wall and resting her face sideways, gently, against the rock. She’d cleverly chosen the wall beyond the gate, which turned the guard’s back to Lovisa. Her expression was familiar to Giddon, for she was plainly trying not to vomit, and as she blinked up at the guard, her pupils were as big as saucers.
“Oh,” the guard said knowingly. “You should be careful with our teas, miss. Some of them are quite addicting.”
“Might I rest inside your gates?” said Bitterblue. “Until I’m feeling better?”
“I’m afraid we don’t have those kinds of facilities,” the guard said.
“Not even for the Queen of Monsea?”
“I’m sure it seems cruel to someone of your magnificence,” he said with a sympathetic grin.
“It’s all right,” Bitterblue said, pushing herself away from the wall. “Sincerely yours, Queen Glitterboo,” she added thickly, as if she were signing a letter, then tried to sweep away, stumbled, and crashed to the ground.
In the ensuing hubbub, Giddon couldn’t tell whether her collapse was real or not, which made his performance as a worried royal retainer even more convincing than it otherwise would have been. He shoved the guard aside and insisted on picking her up himself, relieved that the thing he wanted to do was the thing someone in his position would believably do.
“You can’t leave us out here,” Giddon said, in Keepish.
“I’m sorry—” began the guard.
“I’m bringing her in,” Giddon said, taking full advantage of his height, his breadth, the combined volume of him and Bitterblue as he walked straight into the guard and pushed him back through the gate. “Get some water!” he shouted over the protests of the guard. “And a doctor! She has a heart condition!”
“A heart condition?” cried the guard in renewed alarm as Giddon bullied him along a path that wound through leafless trees. “What kind of heart condition? Would an animal doctor be sufficient?”
“Does she look like a poodle?” shouted Giddon, briefly proud of his Keepish. He could see the gray, weathered wood of the house through the trees ahead, then the place where the trees stopped, with nothing but air and light beyond. A rushing noise he’d mistaken for wind resolved itself into the sweep and pound of water against rock, reminding him that this house stood on a cliff. Behind him he heard nothing, but he knew Lovisa had had every opportunity to enter the property and begin to make her own way through the trees.
“It’ll take a while to call a doctor,” said the guard, who was no longer making any serious attempt to stop Giddon. His aspect was rather depressed, actually, and Giddon wondered if his failure to refuse them entrance was going to get him into trouble. “But there’s an animal doctor on the property at present. That’s why I suggested it.”
“I’m sure he’s busy with your animals,” said Giddon.
“It’s a woman.”
“I don’t care if it’s the prime minister! We need a doctor.” Then, as the guard moved ahead up steps that led to an entranceway surrounded by late-blooming flowers, Giddon squeezed Bitterblue harder. “Hey,” he whispered. “You okay?”
She opened her eyes and shot him a mischievous, black-eyed look. Then she closed her eyes and let her mouth hang open slightly.
Giddon relaxed.
Inside the house, rooms opened to left and right and a corridor streaming with light extended straight ahead. A woman was marching down this corridor toward them, her boot heels clomping like horseshoes on stone and a peeved expression on her brown face. Her white hair, soft as a cloud, was pulled into a knot at the nape of her neck.
“What now?” she snapped at the guard, deep-voiced and annoyed.
“Traveling entertainers,” said the guard, looking cowed before the woman, despite his greater height. “Heart condition.”
“I’m the Queen of Monsea,” Bitterblue moaned, still tucked in Giddon’s arms.
“Of course you are,” said the woman, glancing at Bitterblue’s bedraggled furs and the plain, overly large tunic and pants she wore beneath it, borrowed from Nola. Her messy hair, her enormous black eyes. “And who are you supposed to be?” the woman barked at Giddon.
“I’m Giddon,” said Giddon.
“Yes, I’ve heard of you,” she said sourly. “Very good. Big and loyal-looking. You only need the Graceling and a few pasty men and your act will be complete. Would you like to plop Her Majesty down on a couch?” she said, extending an arm through an open doorway. “We can rustle up a drink for you, but I’m afraid that then you’ll have to be on your way.”
“We need a doctor,” said Giddon firmly.
“We can direct you to the nearest doctor.”
“My companion can’t walk, as you can see.”
“We’ll lend you a horse,” she said with finality, then turned and swept off. “No more guests!” she shouted for the benefit of the guard, who was still standing by, shoulders slumped, face tight with apprehension.
“I hope we haven’t gotten you in trouble,” Giddon said. “She’s plainly upset about something.”
The guard seemed unable to decide what to say. “I’ll ask someone for water,” he said, turning to go.
“I’ll do some magic for you later, to thank you,” Bitterblue moaned, which made him turn back once, half smiling. Then he left the room, leaving Giddon to tuck Bitterblue into a sofa with dark fluffy cushions and pillows into which her body sank, as if it were a bath.
Immediately Bitterblue popped her eyes open. “This sofa is eating me,” she said, fighting with the upholstery in an attempt to rise, then holding her hand out to Giddon, fingers closed over something. “And now,” she said, “are you ready for a little magic?”
“Always,” said Giddon, opening his hand below hers, knowing where this was going. She dropped his own pocketknife into his palm. It explained why, a few minutes ago, while he’d been carrying her, she’d very obviously stuck her hand into his pockets and groped around.
“Remarkable sleight of hand,” he said gravely.
Her giggles began again, then immediately turned into moans. When Giddon reached for her in alarm, she touched his face, patted his cheek. “It’s okay,” she said. “I have waves of feeling happy as pie, then waves of feeling like I ate too much pie. Too much poisonous pie,” she said miserably. Then she checked herself, her expression changing as she looked at the doorway.
Giddon turned to see Lovisa standing there, staring in at them silently. He opened his mouth to say something cautionary or bossy, but Bitterblue tugged his arm to stop him.