Honest

Chapter One

Bertha's blood was the color of the spoiled plum juice surrounding her body. The color of Honest's gown.

Honest slumped against Bertha's body. She didn't scream. Or sob. Her fingers shook as she pressed one hand against Bertha's neck.

Please, please, please—

—Honest removed her hand.

It was covered in blood. Her hand fell, her breathing rocketed.

Bertha did not have a heartbeat.

"Guards!" The shriek crawled out of Honest's throat and tore out of her mouth. "Come here – Valka –"

They did not come. They were guarding the Queen inside of the palace walls, not realizing that the Crown Princess was missing and that her favorite nurse was dead.

Not dead.

Killed.

Honest stopped screaming. She stared at Bertha. Counted the number of hazelnut freckles on Bertha's nose, swept aside Bertha's stray, curly black hair. Wiped the blood dripping down Bertha's neck.

She could not make where the blood came from. Only – only that there was so much of it.

"Honest?"

Perhaps – perhaps if she cleaned all the blood, Bertha would awaken. Would stand up, laugh, and say this was a joke.

"Honest!"

Perhaps Bertha would –

Sturdy, warm hands grasped her shoulder. Familiar hands. Hands lined in callouses, premature creases, and burn scars. Emer's hands. "What," Emer began, "are you –"

Honest stared at Bertha's wide-eyed, unsmiling face. "Healer Zhu." Honest's words were rasped, choked, clinging on remnants of hope.

(Or was it desperation?)

Emer's eyes fell behind Honest. "Oh gods."

Bertha's dead, Honest thought then. Because Emer sounded scared. Because Emer was never scared. Because –

"Honest," said Emer, "turn around."

"I need a Healer."

"Turn around."

Honest's fingernails dug into her palms. "I need. A. Healer."

"Turn around!" Emer rarely ever shouted, but she came close to it now. "Just – stop looking at it –"

Honest cringed. It was a word for animals, for plants, for rocks. Not for humans. Not for Bertha.

Bertha's dead.

Those two words echoed in her head, like a reverberating gong, until she pulled back, dizzy.

Immediately, Emer clasped her hand and tugged her forward. Honest stumbled, until she wasn't looking at a dead body but at a pair of amber eyes.

"I'm not leaving her behind. I won't -"

"I know." Emer's hands held hers. "I... I'll stay here; you call Healer Zhu."

"No."

Emer opened her mouth, and promptly shut it. "Fine," she said, relenting as she always did. "You stay here and I'll call Healer Zhu."

Honest exhaled slowly. Her throat burned...from gratitude, this time. "Hurry."

Nodding, Emer untangled her fingers from Honest's, and pressed one palm on Honest's cheek. Her hand was warm, safe. Comforting. "Don't cry."

"Go," said Honest.

Emer withdrew her hand, and left.