"I am no physician. You have dozens of royal physicians to attend to you, so why come here, a place never meant for someone like you," Bam said when she saw the royals sitting in front of her.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table before she let go. The wood was still faintly stained in places no amount of scrubbing could fully erase. She could still see it if she looked too long. That night had not left quietly. Since then, the inn had breathed differently. Fewer footsteps. Fewer coins. Too much space between sounds. Even now, in the middle of the day, the quiet pressed in.
"We heard about your achievements during the war. You treated a lot of people with your mysterious cure art," Vinegario said.
Bam folded her arms. A slow movement. Measured. "I don't have any idea what you are talking about."
"Really, you don't? You once worked in the royal mansion during the reign of late King Anthony. You must have really had a long life to be alive till this day."
