She blinked, caught off guard. "The gardens?"

"Yes," I said, leaning forward, my voice firm though my chest throbbed with every word.

"My healers claim fresh air helps. I claim they're fools. But..." My eyes found hers, holding steady this time, "maybe you'll make it tolerable."

Her lips parted. She looked like she wanted to laugh, or argue, or both. But instead, she searched my face, cautious, wary as though she was trying to understand why.

"I'm just a maid," she ...