Christian sat up in his bed, rubbing his temples to get rid of the pounding headache. He reached for his phone but there was no bed-side table and no phone. It was the same room he had returned to the previous night, the sweet scent of lavender, strange contraptions and books. Eventually he would get around to reading the books but today he needed to save himself from whatever fate would be his if he couldn’t heal the King.

He felt ill at ease in his own body and did some morning exercises to get his brain going and get rid of the damned headache. The previous day felt like a blur of impressions. His paige Adam had been pushing him around to the King, the banquet and finally led him to bed. Before that there had been the underground train, panic and the woman who held him. 

Now he was here and there was the conundrum of how to get the King to eat well and exercise, without getting him extremely annoyed. Most people didn’t like being told that being healthy came from living a healthy lifestyle. Everyone was into quick fixes, and the King was most likely no exception.

After a few sets of pushups, he pulled on the clothes from the day before and peaked out the door. The stone corridor was empty. He needed to talk to the cook but did not know how to find the kitchen. Despite the trepidation he headed out. 

The maze-like corridors led him round and round, past countless doors and down stairways. Here and there he met a servant carrying a tray, clothes or other things. All were in a hurry, giving him strange looks but not stopping to aid him. Finally he took it in his own hands when a woman carrying a large bundle of cloth came scurrying towards him.

“Excuse me!”

She stopped, “yes?”

“Can you take me to the kitchen?”

“I… I don’t have time, this needs to be taken to the queen.”

“Let’s go to the queen, maybe she can help me.”

The woman stared at him, her mouth agape.

“Come on then, don’t keep a Witch waiting,” he said.

The maid hurried along and Christian walked behind her. They reached a large set of doors and the maid knocked before opening the door and walking inside. Christian made to follow, but she shut it until only a crack was open, her face poking out.

“You wait out here until I say otherwise.”

He folded his arms and leaned against the wall while he waited; he reached into his pocket to find relief from the boredom of waiting. Still no phone, instead he drummed his fingers together frenetically in front of him. A maid passing gave him a look, eyebrows raised. He folded his arms again, fighting against the need to fidget.

The doors opened, and the maid stepped out, “you may enter,” she said, holding the door for him.

Light flooded the from the floor to ceiling windows. The entire room felt heavy in its decorations, red and green satins paired with gilded detailing of each piece of furniture. At a large vanity table the queen sat, clothed in the same blue dress that she had been wearing when he first saw her. The maid brushed the queen's hair as the queen looked at Christian in the mirror's reflection.

“I am sorry to keep you waiting, but I had to get clothed first,” the queen said.

“Don’t be sorry,” Christian said. Then he bowed. “My queen.”

“Will etiquette lessons begin today?” she asked, with a crooked smile.

“Maybe… but that’s not why I’m here.”

“My maid mentioned you were trying to find the kitchen,” she said, a question in her voice.

“Yes, I believe that your husband's ailment may be because of his diet. I’d like to discuss what changes would be possible with the chef.”

The queen’s eyebrows rose.

“Leave us, and fetch someone to help our Witch to the kitchen,” she said to the maid. 

The maid scuttled out of the room. The queen stood and turned towards Christian, folding an arm around her waist and bringing her other hand up to her face, tapping her index finger against her lips while she stared up at him. Christian could feel the heat rising in his cheeks at the questioning look that she was giving him.

“I have heard that witches make miracles happen, I’ve never met a witch but changing how someone eats is not a miracle.”

Christian straightened. “Do you know witches come from a different world? A magical world. I have been sent here to help and spirits from my world have told me to help the king by using food as medicine.”

“Really? Well, I can tell you it will be a miracle if you can get him to change his habits,” she rolled her eyes at him.

“I don’t mean to be blunt…”

“Then don’t be,” she said, turning away from him and sitting down and clasping her head in her hands. 

Christian felt at a loss, he didn’t really know what was acceptable. But she looked sad. He took a step towards her and reached to touch her shoulder.

She spoke again, and he withdrew from her.

“I’ve prayed for a miracle, a Witch or any other help that the gods would be willing to give me. But I can’t see how you are of any use to me.”

Christian waited for a heartbeat, thinking she might say something more. 

When she didn’t, he said, “I will help you, whatever it is you need.”

“Really?” She twisted around, looking up at him with bright eyes.

He drew in a breath at those green eyes. 

“Of course,” he said.

A knock came at the door and they both started. The maid poked her head round the door.

“I’ve brought Adam,” she said.

“Go, I will speak with you again,” the queen said. Dismissing him with a wave of her hand.