“Next.”

Cove cringes as another person files in. The man has a horribly mangled arm. It’s in a sling that is probably supposed to be white but is red and brown. A little boy is hiding behind his legs, clearly scared.

“My queen. My king. Please. I was in an accident. It stops me from working and providing for my family. I can’t even hold my son because of this. I beg of you, please heal me. For my son,” the man pleads, his voice hoarse from emotion.

Her mother, Queen Nerva, looks over to Cove’s father, King Redfal. Cove could see their empathy in their eyes. She waits for their nod towards her.

Once they give her the signal, she flies from her seat and approaches the man. The boy cowers even more.

“Hi there. I’m going to help you dad. You’re really strong for coming here and being here for him,” she compliments, trying to get him to feel a little more comfortable. He gives her a small smile. This must be terrifying for him. She’s 14 years old and without her healing abilities, she would be scared for her father in that position.

Over the blood crusted bandages, she places her hands and instantly starts the process. He groans at the first contact, but when the white light takes over, he relaxes.

It takes only a moment before the glow dies down and the man laughs in ecstasy. He rips the bandages off and flexes his arm.

“Thank you, my queen and king. I cannot repay you enough, my princess.”

“You do not owe us anything. I am happy to help,” Cove replies, waving off his suggestion of debt.

The man scoops up his son, and the boy joyously giggles. She smiles at the sight. It warms her heart. In moments like this, she feels like she was right to be given these abilities. Like someone out there chose her.

“Next.”

Sitting back at her designated chair, she watches as a woman with an obvious limp stands in front of them.

“My Majesties. I am a baker. It hurts to be on my feet the whole day. I cannot afford a medic. Would you please consider me for healing?” The older woman implores.

Cove starts to shift in her seat. She wants to get up but her parents haven’t given her the signal yet.

“You bake?” Her mother asks.

“Yes.”

“Do you have to stand to do that?” Cove’s head whips to her mother. Where was this going?

“I suppose not always,” the woman answers, hesitant.

Her parents share another look, but this time, there is no nod towards Cove. “I’m sorry but we cannot consider you yet,” her father states, voice full of remorse. But that doesn’t make anyone feel better in the room.

The woman doesn’t make a scene. Dejectedly, she just limps out of the room. “What? Mom, it’ll only take a second,” Cove is confused. She has only been to two of these healing courts, but they have let her heal everyone so far.

“She clearly needed help.”

“Covelle, I love your kind heart. It is why I know you’ll be a caring ruler, but this is an important lesson.”

Her mother is perfectly poised, but Cove is anything but. “How is this a lesson? What is this teaching me? That even with this ability, I let people suffer anyway?”

“What your mother is saying is that you can’t save anyone. As a queen or a king, you are responsible for everyone but have to know what to do to benefit the most people. Most decisions will not be the best for everyone. It is the toughest lesson I’ve ever learned,” her father explains. But it’s not good enough for her. It just serves to fire her up even more.

“I refuse. I refuse to believe that I just sit by and let people hurt. I have the power to heal them! This isn’t a matter of their taxes or politics! These are their lives,” she pauses to take a breath, but as soon as they go to open their mouths, she continues. “And as you taught me, when you are a ruler, their lives are in your hands. Which means if they suffer or die, it is on my hands.”

She is breathing hard by the end of her speech. Someone needs to advocate for these people. She has the power to heal them. They just need to let her.

The Queen sighs and rests a hand on her shoulder. “You are a beautiful soul, darling. But this is a necessary lesson for rulers. You cannot save everyone.”

“Not if I don’t try,” Cove insists. “It matters to those I can heal.”

“This is not up for discussion, Covelle,” her father says, standing next to her mother, a united front.

From his tone of voice, she knows she won’t get anywhere. She bows her head and excuses herself.

She will never forgive them for this moment.

That night when she falls asleep, she dreams of the woman and her broken leg. The pain clear as day on her face and through her movements etched into Cove’s mind.

Sitting by and doing nothing doesn’t work for her. She wouldn’t set that example to not only her people but to her younger siblings as well.

She woke up with a goal. Heal people.

No matter what her parents said.

There will be no criteria or council. She will not discriminate based on what they do and if their injury directly affects their job. It will be fair.

She may not be able to save everyone.

But she can try.