Iola knew immediately that this must be Prince Alexio’s mother, Eris, goddess of strife and discord. She’d heard the stories of her golden apple and how she used it to bring chaos and despair to those who displeased her. Iola wasn’t worried, though. She was confident of her healing powers, and although she couldn’t be sure that she’d be able to cure the young prince entirely, she did not doubt that she’d be able to bring him some degree of relief.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Eris said, taking hold of one of Iola’s hands and pressing it between her cool palms.
“The pleasure is mine, I assure you,” Iola replied.
“My son has been awaiting your arrival. Let us not waste another minute.” With that said, Eris let go of Iola’s hand and spun around. She rushed after the goddess, following her through the narrow, torch-lit corridors until Eris stopped in front of an arched door.
She opened it quietly, sticking her head inside the room before entering. “My dear, a new healer is here. I am sure this one will bring you a cure.” When Eris turned to Iola, her eyes were narrow slits, and her mouth was pulled into a tight, straight line. “You will cure him.” There was a veiled threat in those words. One that wasn’t missed by Iola.
“I will make him considerably better. I can assure you of that.” From inside the room, she heard the sharp intake of breath, then a rattling noise and a deep raspy cough.
“What are you waiting for then? Come in.” There was a twinge of irritation in the prince’s voice.
Eris nodded, and Iola hurried inside. Prince Alexio seemed unusually small for a boy of ten, but then maybe that was due to the huge canopied bed he lay in. A tiny, pale hand waved her over, and she went to stand beside the prince. Propped up by a mountain of ornate pillows, he studied her carefully.
A frown furrowed his otherwise smooth brow. “You do not look old enough to be a healer.”
Her bottom lip twitched as she held back her grin. “Your Highness, how old does one need to be?”
His frown deepened. “Older than you. The others were all men with straggly gray hair.”
This time she didn’t try to hide her amusement, letting her lips curve up into a smile. “I cannot help that I am not a man. But I can assure you that I am quite experienced and that my powers are genuine.”
His features relaxed some, and when he closed his eyes, she didn’t know if their short conversation had tired him or if he had simply lost interest in her. Either way, she had work to do,and the sooner she began, the better it would be for him.
Iola slipped off her cloak, then draped it over the back of the chair beside the bed. Next, she removed from her pouch some herbs, the vial of soil, a squill petal, and a pestle and mortar. After grinding the ingredients, she asked Eris for a cup of hot water.
The goddess, who’d been watching intently from the doorway, nodded, then disappeared down the corridor. A few minutes later, a pretty young girl arrived with a pitcher and a cup.
After setting them down on the bedside table, she said, “I am Princess Tabaos. Alexio’s sister.” She looked over at the frail figure lying in bed. “You are going to make him well, aren’t you?”
“Yes, highness. I do not doubt that I shall be able to help him.”
The princess stared hard at her with pursed lips. “Why will you be able to help him when none of the others could?”
Iola wasn’t about to let Princess Tabaos make her uncomfortable. “Because I am very good at what I do.” Iola poured the ingredients from the stone mortar into the cup then added in hot water. She’d just handed the remedy to the young prince when a servant raced into the room.
“I do not mean to interrupt, but King Parlion would like to see the healer,” the servant boy announced.
The princess sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand under the cup, helping to steady it so that the prince could take a sip without spilling it. “Go on, miss. I will stay with my brother until you get back.”
“Thank you. I should not be long.” Iola followed the servant through the corridors, staying close to the torchlight so that she wouldn’t catch the toe of her sandal in the thick crevices that ran throughout the stone floor. A short time later, he led her into the Throne Room. It was magnificent with its alabaster walls, lapis lazuli pillars, and the plastered floor that was covered with paintings of sea creatures. Seated near the hearth in an ornate gold chair was the king. He looked older than she’d imagined, or maybe that was due to his silvery hair and long white beard. His bushy brows were drawn together by a scowl.
“How is my son? Have you cured him?” he asked gruffly.
Iola stepped closer, bowing her head when she stood in front of him. “Your Majesty, he was finishing the remedy as I left. Princess Tabaos is with him now.”
His mouth twisted wryly, and she wondered why that would displease him, but then her thoughts shifted when his gaze raked over her thin linen tunic, then moved up to her lips and hovered there. A chill ran up the back of her neck. Fully aware of the effect her beauty had on men, she hoped the
