Ghost Phoenix Read Free

her resemblance to Greta.
    That meant the man accosting him must be the doctor.
    â€œI’m letting air and life into the room, which is more than you’re doing,” Richard said.
    â€œAre you insane? The risk of infection is too high.” The doctor rushed toward the windows.
    Richard stepped forward and barred the way. “Risk is exactly what the Queen needs.”
    â€œAnd what makes you an expert? For all I can see, you’re not even a member of the Court.”
    â€œYou sound like a hater, Doctor.”
    Marshal cleared his throat. “Richard, this is Doctor Samnee. Doctor, this is Prince Richard, Edward’s brother.”
    â€œI see,” Doctor Samnee said.
    Richard studied him. This short, middle-aged man with a small mustache and curly hair hardly seemed to carry enough dignity for the Queen’s Court. Of course, Richard wasn’t one to talk about proper court appearance. Besides, it was the doctor’s medical advice that was at issue.
    â€œWhy did you give those orders, Doctor, and shut the Queen away from life?”
    â€œFresh air could expose her, in her weakened state, to all manner of illness.”
    â€œYet dead and decayed air could expose her, in her weakened state, to death.”
    Marshal coughed again, covering his mouth with his hand. No, not a cough. A laugh. At least Richard had improved Marshal’s mood.
    â€œYou’ve no right to overrule my treatment,” Samnee said.
    â€œI’ve every right. Now that my brother is dead, I am the Queen’s heir.” Richard tilted his head and glared at the doctor. “You forget your place.”
    â€œAnd you finally remember yours, Richard,” the Queen whispered, her voice muffled by the curtains around her bed.
    The Queen’s words were barely audible, yet still carried a rebuke. All was not lost yet, Richard thought, if she possessed the energy to chide him. He strode to the bed and pushed aside the opulent curtains to reveal the occupant.
    Only years of practice in courtly manners kept his face from showing the shock of seeing her like this.
    None of his Queen’s beauty remained. Her sallow cheeks, the sick yellow tint to her skin, and stringy muscles that covered bone made her look like a corpse. Her silk bedclothes seemed a grotesque joke, beauty covering death.
    Their immortality relied on the desire to live. Thought became deed. No disease could destroy them, and very few injuries were immune to their psychic healing abilities. Doctors and their precautions be damned—the only way the Queen could die was if she wanted to die.
    â€œHow could you let yourself become this?”
    â€œHow could you stay away from me so long?” Her eyes gleamed, full of anger. She raised a skeletal finger to him and pointed. “And with these clothes and with your hair bleached? This isn’t you.”
    Richard bit his tongue and waited a few seconds before replying, lest he let loose his horror at what remained of the most vital person he’d ever known. “Ah, I see you’re not too far gone yet if you criticize me. But you didn’t answer my question.”
    â€œWe are not required to answer your question,” said the Queen, using the royal “we”. Another good sign, he hoped. She must live. What could be so wrong?
    He sat on the bed, next to her. With her so tiny, there was plenty of room. “You chide me for leaving. And yet you’d give up and leave them without a Queen.”
    â€œYou could lead our court. You’re my heir, as you just said.”
    â€œI’d lead them into the waves, perhaps.” He smiled. “Is that why you insisted I return, then? To assure yourself the Court could continue without you?” He shook his head. “I’m no replacement for you. No one is. You’ll simply have to live.”
    She blinked and looked past him. Richard glanced over his shoulder and saw Marshal standing directly behind him.