– What a comparison you're making. You're not dead! I'm still alive! – Wit appeared on my bed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. His whiskers stuck out in a funny way, and I laughed involuntarily.
– Is something wrong, Your Majesty? – My servant asked, stopping to straighten the folds of my camisole.
– Don't take it personally, Mark. I just remembered a nice joke," I lied with a smile. – But what about Hedda? Is she ready yet?
– Since early this morning, my lord. They say she's even been to the Holy Father's house to repent of her sins," the servant said, taking up my camisole again. After a short silence, he added quietly: "Everyone in the palace is whispering, my lord… Your consort has suddenly disappeared, and evil tongues have already buried her… They say that you decided to marry Her Highness Princess Hedda, and therefore killed your wife Sylvia Rossi....
– What a fascinating rumor," was all I could say to that.
Fascinating and so far from reality. Me and Hedda. Never. No way. May God himself compel me. I saw Hedda as a big spoiled child, but not as a woman. I haven't even decided for myself whether she's beautiful or not, I don't care at all. I have Sylvia. A captivating, burning and tart rose with thorns.
Oh, if only Vakkerland had known that I had been poisoned, and that I had one foot in the grave, how much happiness, joy, and backbiting that news would have caused!
– Well, that's all, Mark, go on. I can take it from here," I said, wishing to be alone, but seeing the curiosity in my faithful servant's eyes, I smiled and added: "All this is just a foolish fiction. My wife is alive and well, and she is absent because I allowed her to visit her parents in Flammehav. She deserves it.
– Of course, my lord! You are honorable, my king. Please, let me comb your hair…" Mark started to say, but I firmly sent him out the door.
– How do I look? – I asked, turning to my familiar.
– Like a peasant who's miraculously acquired a lord's outfit," Vit answered thoughtfully. – At least comb your hair for good measure… You're not well, Derek. Why don't you stay in your chambers? Find some plausible excuse.
– You just chased me out of bed yourself. It's settled: I'm going," I said, following the snow leopard's advice and combing my long hair with my fingers. – Besides, you are right: I am a king, and the eyes of my subjects are upon me. They must know and see that I grieve for King Juris as much as they do.
– Ask Andrada to give you a potion. – Vit jumped silently off the bed onto the soft carpet and walked over to me. – Just in case, you stubborn head of yours.
– Maybe later. I'm already late," I mouthed, sheathing my trusty sword and heading for the door. – Are you coming? – I asked without turning around.
– I'm coming, I'm coming… Just as long as nothing happens. It's going to be a cold day. Take care of yourself, you dummy! – Vit grumbled, and in a split second he was beside me.
– Don't worry, if I'm going to die, it won't be today," I tried to comfort him, and smiled at the thought that this walking ball of sarcasm had grown attached to me, and even so much so that he was afraid of losing me. That felt good.
I had gotten so used to Vit and his presence around me that sometimes it felt like he'd been with me since I was born. Maybe there was some truth to that, because, as it turned out, I had magic in my blood. But how do I know where it came from? Andrada couldn't answer that question, though she tried hard to find out, and even took a few drops of my blood to test it in her laboratory, but it seemed to be a mystery that would remain unsolved.
