We stayed in Thornwick three more days, longer than originally planned, Elena's cottage becoming a quiet base while we pieced together fragments of a story the palace had apparently never bothered fully investigating six years ago.
"There was a physician," Elena said, on the second morning, over a simple breakfast neither Darius nor I had the heart to decline despite her clearly modest means. "Temple-trained, attending Aria during her pregnancy at the capital. She wrote to me twice about him—said he was the only one who seemed to take her fears seriously, rather than dismissing them as pregnancy-related anxiety."
"Do you remember his name?" I asked.
"Physician Corwin," Elena said, after a moment's careful thought. "I believe he still practices, if he's living. Though whether the palace would allow easy access to someone who apparently disagreed with the official explanation—"
"I'm the empress," I said. "I don't need the palace's permission to speak with my own physician."
