By late summer, I've managed to create a somewhat consistent routine: wake up around dawn, get ready and gorge myself on food, heal soldiers all day long with an occasional bite in between, return back to my tent and gorge myself once more.
I'm washing down my third boiled egg with the tea that has finally made its way to the military camp when Nina enters the tent to inform me that there has been a change in my schedule.
"A change? From my father?" I inquire.
"No, um-" Nina hesitates more than usual and I plow forward.
"Then it must be my brothers. Which one?"
"Actually, neither your highness."
Nina looks uncomfortable and I have a bad feeling that forces me to set down my cup and look at the attendant who has followed me around like a shadow since I've arrived.
And Nina doesn't disappoint. "Ahem," she awkwardly clears her throat, her typical composure lost. "Bishop Duvernay wishes to speak with you."
