“Lady Audie, a word.”

  After watching Lord Edric leave, the Queen turned to her trusted lady-in-waiting.

  The two walked to a quiet corner of the corridor. Lady Audie’s face was filled with confusion.

  “What is wrong, Your Majesty?”

  “I thought I instructed you to seek physicians outside the palace records. How did you end up contacting Lord Edric?”

  Lady Audie lowered her voice.

  “It is strange, Your Majesty. One of my servants told me there was a man in the capital who appeared from nowhere and began treating commoners for free. I thought such a person might be what we needed. So I sent word to invite him quietly. Who could have expected it would be Lord Edric?”

  The Queen stared at her in disbelief.

  “Yes, I know it sounds like too much coincidence,” Lady Audie continued. “But we had no other options. I thought it was worth trying.”

  Marielle exhaled slowly.

  “Well. Let us see how it goes.”

  “Your Majesty… would you truly allow Lord Edric to treat the prince?”

  The Queen gave a bitter laugh.

  “As you said, there is nothing more we can do.”

  ?

  Lord Edric returned before dusk, just as he had promised.

  A servant guided him to the nursery, where the Queen was already waiting.

  “It is unusual, my lord, that you always come alone. Where are your attendants?”

  “Your Majesty,” Edric replied calmly, “I have always preferred my own company.”

  From within his coat, he produced a small glass bottle filled with deep red liquid.

  “Here. As promised.”

  The moment Marielle touched the bottle, her fingers trembled.

  Was she truly about to trust him? To pour this unknown liquid into her son’s mouth?

  What if it was poison?

  Edric noticed her hesitation.

  “I am already here. Alone,” he said lightly. “If you are displeased with the outcome, you may arrest me at once. I assure you your knights run faster than I do. What are you afraid of?”

  Marielle said nothing.

  She handed the bottle to one of the wet nurses.

  “Give it to the prince.”

  ?

  After nearly two days of fever, Prince Cassian looked far worse.

  His once soft, pink cheeks were drained of all color. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his fragile skin. His tiny fists trembled without strength, fingers curling and uncurling as if grasping at something unseen. His breathing came in uneven bursts—too fast, too shallow.

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  His lips were dry. Cracked.

  His eyes fluttered beneath heavy lids, rolling faintly as though he were trapped in a nightmare he could not wake from.

  The wet nurse tried to lift him gently.

  “Your Majesty… he is so weak.”

  They struggled to open his small mouth. A thin stream of the red liquid slipped past his lips—but most of it dribbled down his chin and soaked into the cloth beneath him.

  “Your Majesty,” the nurse whispered in rising panic, “the prince is not swallowing.”

  Marielle stepped forward immediately.

  “Lift him.”

  Her voice was steady, but her hands were not.

  Edric moved closer to the cradle, his expression unreadable.

  “Hold him upright,” he instructed calmly. “Tilt his head slightly back. Not too much—you do not want him to choke.”

  The wet nurse obeyed.

  Edric took the bottle from her hand.

  “Infants cannot drink as adults do,” he said quietly. “It must be given slowly.”

  He dipped his finger into the red liquid and pressed it gently against the prince’s lips. Cassian did not react at first. Then, faintly, instinct answered. His mouth moved.

  Another drop. Then another.

  This time, the liquid slipped past his lips and did not spill out.

  “Again,” Edric murmured.

  Marielle watched every movement. If he made the slightest wrong gesture, she would have him seized before he could breathe again.

  But he did nothing rash. Nothing hurried.

  Only careful. Measured.

  After several moments, the bottle was nearly empty.

  “Now,” Edric said, stepping back, “we wait.”

  ?

  The minutes felt longer than years.

  Cassian’s breathing remained uneven at first. His tiny body still twitched faintly against the nurse’s arms. The fever’s heat radiated from him like a furnace.

  Marielle pressed her hand against her son’s forehead.

  Still burning.

  Her jaw tightened.

  Edric stood quietly at a distance, watching.

  Then—

  Cassian’s breathing shifted.

  It was subtle. But it changed.

  The sharp, frantic rhythm began to slow. The tightness in his tiny fists eased. His fingers loosened, falling open against the blanket.

  The tremors stopped.

  The wet nurse gasped softly.

  “Your Majesty… his breathing…”

  Marielle felt it too.

  The heat beneath her palm no longer felt scorching. Still warm—but no longer raging.

  A small sound escaped Cassian’s lips—not a cry, not a moan. Just a weak, tired exhale. Then his body settled.

  The room was silent.

  Marielle did not dare move.

  “Continue to monitor him,” Edric said quietly. “If the fever does not rise again within the hour, he will live.”

  The words struck her harder than any blade.

  Marielle straightened slowly.

  “You may all leave,” she said.

  The room emptied, reluctantly.

  Now only she and Edric remained beside the cradle.

  For a long moment, neither of them looked at each other.

  “You see?” Edric said quietly. “Your son needed the right medicine.”

  She did not respond.

  He continued, almost gently:

  “I told you yesterday, Your Majesty. Accusations in your head are meaningless without proof.”

  Her fingers tightened at her sides.

  “You still believe I harmed him.”

  She finally turned to face him.

  “I believe,” she said calmly, “that you arrived too prepared. Treating commoners? What a show.”

  Edric smiled faintly.

  “And yet you let me touch him”.

  He stepped slightly closer—not threatening, but near enough to lower his voice.

  “You are a wise woman, Marielle.”

  It was the first time he had spoken her name without title.

  “You understand something others do not.”

  Her gaze sharpened, “And what is that?”

  “That sometimes,” he said softly, “the most dangerous enemy is also the only useful ally.”

  Marielle’s voice turned cool as winter glass.

  “If my son’s fever rises again—”

  “It will not,” Edric replied smoothly. “But if it does… you know where to find me.”

  He glanced once more at the sleeping prince.

  Then back at her.

  “You are surrounded by people who serve the crown,” he said. “Very few serve you.”

  “In a few days, they will have a new master—someone who is completely beyond your control..”

  Marielle held his gaze.

  “You presume much, Lord Edric.”

  He inclined his head slightly.

  “I always do.”

  And then he left.

  ?

  Cassian breathed evenly in the cradle.

  Alive.