Page 48 of Fated to the Wicked King

Gregory’s eyes narrowed again. He was absolutely not under any illusion that the Wicked King would be so charitably inclined.

Following Gregory’s gaze, I glanced up at the king. He barely showed signs that he knew we were all still in his presence. “Um, I mean, I…” I corrected. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Why, that would be most appreciated.” Sophie’s eyes lit up. “And I would be honored to show you our beautiful kingdom along the way.”

I smiled. “The honor would be mine, Your Highness.”

To this, it seemed Gregory had no objections. He merely shrugged and turned to go.

“Lovely!” Sophie reached for my hand. “Come, we shall start at the terraced lift districts.”

The king gripped my arm.

I flashed him an expectant look. “What?” Looking back, I cast Sophie a weak smile. “I’ll be right there.”

“Is it your goal to undermine me in front of this kingdom?” His glower was fierce, but nothing I wasn’t used to by now.

I shrugged his hand off yet again. “It is my goal that nobody else gets killed for no good reason—especially if they’re innocent.”

“These people are not innocent,” he hissed.

I put my face in his to mutter under my breath, “Look, Gregory and Sophie were just as shocked at what happened this morning. I could feel it. And isn’t that the reason why I came here in the first place? To feel all this out?” I tilted my head to concede at least one thing. “Though I think you were right—someone in Lucerne is responsible for all these things. But it is not Gregory or Sophie. What matters now is that we find who is actually responsible before things get any worse.”

“Miss Allie,” Sophie called out.

“I have to go.” I raised an eyebrow. “Unless you actually would like to join us to help other people? This would, of course, involve helping other people.”

The irate, suffering look in the king’s sharp eyes served as his response. With another huff, he spun and left.

The great liftworks that normally moved with seamless precision groaned in strained, broken rhythms, their gears misaligned and their cables hanging slack.

Blowing out a puff of breath, I tucked my cloak closer around me to stave off the crisp, cold mountain air.

Against the crumbled mountainside, workers on scaffolds were already performing repairs while others were still inspecting the landslips for casualties.

The princess had been right. This was the area that had received the most damage from the morning’s chaos. She certainly knew her kingdom and her people well.

Situated beneath the canvas tent, which had been raised at the edge of the damage, rows of simple cots held the injured in varying states of recovery. It was a relief that there didn’t seem to be any serious injuries or deaths, though there were enough casualties—cuts, bruises, and the lingering shock of near disaster.

Sophie moved among them, unwavering, her hands glowing faintly as she knelt beside each patient, knitting wounds, wrapping bandages for deeper cuts, and calming the fear that clung beneath the surface, lifting their spirits and tireless in her efforts to comfort them.

I could only watch the princess work her magic in awe.

When we were inspecting the land slips earlier, with my limited abilities, I had been able to help detect and retrieve a few trapped workers beneath fallen rocks. But that was all.

You are truly not one of us. The only reason you have any use at all is that you wear my mystical heart.

My stance shifted instinctively, my fingers already reaching into my pockets for the vials of herbs I’d brought with me. I found a corner table and set to work concocting a small batch. Borrowed magic was not all I had to offer.

Sophie looked up at me with something soft and bright in her expression. “Are you creating a potion?”

I ground the herbs in the bowl. “It’s for easing pain. I hope it helps.”

As she tended to one of the patients, she tilted her head, her eyes wide. “Are you truly a sorceress witch, as the rumors say? Having met you, I already know it cannot be true that you are responsible for the capture of dozens of alleged traitors to the crown.”

I wrinkled my nose. “It’s…a bit complicated.” I put a hand to my chest. “I possess a certain magic—borrowed, as it were. It allows me to probe a person’s intentions, distinguish truths from lies.”

“You wear a mystical heart.” Her mouth dropped open. “I have heard of such things. The Red Queen used to steal them to fuel her own powers.” Averting her gaze, she put a hand to her chest. “In my family, I was the only one born with a gift. It is quite rare among regular citizens of Wünder. Magic is more often acquired.”