The crown prince’s eyes were closed, but his body gave a sudden lurch as he folded forward and coughed between his knees. I sank onto my heels, giving him a wide berth as bright, red splotches formed along his face and neck, oxygen returning. Head drooped, he lifted his head enough to gaze at me, his coughs turning to rattled breaths.
Beside him, Kye gazed at me in varying degrees of baffled amazement.
I dropped my eyes, pushing slowly to my feet, in no mood for whatever questions they’d likely have for me now. The fleeting chance at my freedom had blown out with the wind, and I’d been the one to open the door.
“You have bad lungs,” I said, determined to fend off their looks of incredulity with my own need to understand what had just occurred. Wrapping an arm around myself to grasp my own elbow, I waited.
Hadrian watched me, his expression unreadable. “I was born with the Salt Sickness,” he rasped, as if worrying the trees would overhear. “Are you familiar with it?”
A memory flickered in my head. A cabin boy, an island wide search, a pirate ship disappearing overnight after weeks at port. Irah’s blurred face surfaced in my cognition. “I’ve heard of it. But I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what it does.”
He and Kye shared furtive glances. Leveraging himself up enough to sit on the log, Kye pulled Hadrian up beside him. Hadrian cleared his throat softly. “You’ve heard the sayingwoe to the child?“
I shook my head.
“It's a disease,” Kye said. “Of the pancreas and lungs. Hadrian’s mucus is thicker than it should be. It gets clogged, and he has difficulty breathing, performing tasks, absorbing nutrients from foods. He loses more salt than most people, so he tires quickly.”
“Woe to the child of salt, tasted from a kiss on the head, for he is cursed from birth, and soon he will be dead,”Hadrian muttered, still catching his breath. “I inherited it from my mother’s side.”
Kye swallowed. “Her brother died of Salt Sickness as a child. Though they say both sides require a carrier. My mother recognized the symptoms when Hadrian was young and hid it from my father and his advisors. Jonet and I don’t have it. Just Hadrian. She told no one except her personal doctor. He said Hadrian wouldn’t live past thirteen.”
“How old are you?” I asked, realizing I didn’t know.
Hadrian cleared his throat. “Twenty-eight.”
I opened my mouth and found I didn’t know what to say. So many questions, all of them intrusive. Strength returning, Hadrian blew out a heavy breath and smiled. “I haven’t been able to do that in two weeks,” he murmured to Kye.
Kye’s eyes flicked up to mine in response.
“My mother kept me at her side at all times,” Hadrian said, rubbing his fingers against his jaw. “She went to all my lessonsand forbade me from playing rough with the other boys my age. I became quite academic. She hid damp cloths in her dresses to wipe the salt from my face and made me wash my hands constantly so no one could taste or smell salt off me. There were periods where I became ill, and she made me sleep with her in her room. In retrospect, I fear she obsessed over me a bit. I worry she neglected Jonet and Nikolaos.” His mouth quirked in quiet shame, and Kye frowned, his head giving an indiscernible shake as though he disagreed. “But I suppose everyone assumed she was overprotective of the future king and forgave her for it.
“After she passed, my grief took over and without her to stop me, I went through a reckless phase.” The corner of his mouth lifted, memories dancing behind his hard eyes. “I was twelve. I skipped an entire month of lessons and spent my days wrestling other boys and riding horses. Then the weather turned cold, and I grew sick. They thought I had pneumonia like my mother, but I knew it was my disease. It was the Salt. I knew I had to be more careful, to hide the symptoms as my mother had taught me, and not push myself too far. I became selective in how I spent my energy. I cut off most of my friendships and only rode horses in short sessions in the morning when I felt my best. I demanded my lessons be private, and I practiced sword fighting only with my instructor. And Nikolaos, eventually. I was just trying to survive. I never thought I would live this long.”
“Is it still a secret?” I asked.
“Kye knows,” Hadrian said with a touch of irony. Kye’s mouth twitched, though he didn’t appear amused. Hadrian gave a lengthy sigh, mulling over his thoughts. “Who else, I’m not sure. The observant palace aides know something's wrong. As an adult, I’ve had enough episodes during public appearances that anyone with a background in medicine could likely guess. I think my father and his advisors know. They’ve switched out doctors so many times. I’ve been waiting for them to get ridof Elros, but he’s the best one yet. I think they’re avoiding the widespread rumors that would follow if the general population knew the truth. And I’m fairly certain they’re waiting for the right opportunity to be rid of me. I’ve lasted longer than anyone thought I would, and with Calder’s future in question, they want a reliable heir.”
I watched them. They watched me. My heart quickened as I sensed the conversation veering toward me again, and I steeled myself. “Why?”
Hadrian gazed at me calmly. “Why do I believe so, or why would they want to do away with me?”
“Both,” I breathed. Anything to keep him from further questioning my role at court.
Hadrian offered me a tight smile. “For the past couple years, they've forced more responsibilities onto Nikolaos. Forced him into lessons that should be studied by the future king. Forced him to sit in on council meetings and court determinations and formal complaints to the crown placed by landowners and peerage.” He paused to clear his throat, chuckling in relief at how easy it was, and continued. “They’ve given him a high-ranking position in the militia, a position which should have gone to the heir on the eve of war. They haven’t increased any of my obligations.”
He paused, twisting a ring around his finger before rubbing his knuckles.
Kye pushed himself to his feet, watching me as though he didn’t know what to make of me.
Hadrian suddenly lost his gentility, his mouth pinched with discomfort. He glanced to his brother, but Kye had hardened, unwilling to take his eyes off mine. I waited.
“Three years ago,” Hadrian said, frowning at the forest floor, “I began to notice a string of accidents. Near-misses. Oil spilled on the top step outside my bedroom door. The railing of my privatebalcony so loose it fell off as I leaned against it. An odd scent in my wine, which I poured into one of the palace plants, only to find that plant dead a week later.
“I didn’t think about it at first. It seemed every few months, I almost died. But then a man broke into my rooms while I was asleep—”
“He’s not alive anymore,” Kye cut in, flexing his shoulders as though working out a sore muscle.
Hadrian nodded to himself, sending his attention my way. “But since you’ve been in Calder, I haven’t had a single incident. When I was informed that my brother had brought a bride back from Leihani, I became…” he waved a hand, as though the right word hovered in the air. “Suspicious. I thought they would have chosen someone with bloodlines for Kye, a princess of a neighboring kingdom. An ally, a diplomatic choice. Rumors had been circulating these past months about a deal with Illuskia…”
