Chapter 8:
Mariela and Gideon had been relocated to the prince's pavilion—an elegant and prestigious wing reserved for the most honoured guests. Unlike the modest accommodations of the inn's guest quarters, this place was lavish and vast, complete with richly decorated rooms, polished marble floors, and a small army of attentive servants and guards. It was clear they were no longer mere visitors—they were under royal care now.
Word of the move reached Mariela's mother, a woman known for her strict standards and unyielding expectations. Her response came in the form of a letter, carefully penned in her elegant script. Alongside it, a parcel of Mariela's finest clothes and accessories arrived.
Mariela opened the letter slowly, her fingers trembling just slightly. She could hear her mother's voice in every line—stern but proud.
"Finally, the lessons you've been taught will bear fruit. Represent the Marriott family with dignity and grace. I raised you for this."
Tears welled in Mariela's eyes, but they weren't only from sadness. For once, her mother's words felt like a blessing.
The next morning, Mariela woke early, her heart brimming with purpose. She stood before the mirror, tying her hair with a silk ribbon from home.
"Whatever it is, I will do it," she whispered with quiet determination.
Later, as she stepped into the corridor with Gideon at her side, Lavish greeted them.
"This pavilion is closest to the king's quarters," he explained. "If any emergency arises, we'll need immediate assistance from a capable physician. Luckily, the palace has just that—Lady Tiana. She'll be your guide from now on."
Mariela's eyes lit with curiosity. "I can't wait to meet her."
Gideon glanced sideways at her. "Please just behave yourself, my lady."
Lavish led them down the hall and stopped before an ornate door. He knocked twice.
"Enter, please," came a calm, refined voice from within.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of dried herbs and polished wood. Bookshelves lined the walls. Behind a desk, a woman stood tall, poised, with silvering hair tied back in a neat coil.
"Lady Mariela Elise Marriott," Lavish introduced. "This is Lady Tiana, the king's most trusted physician."
Lady Tiana's sharp eyes studied Mariela. "I've heard tales of your knowledge in plant medicine. I hope those are more than fables."
Mariela bowed. "It is an honour to meet you, Lady Tiana. I believe you'll find the stories to be grounded in truth."
Lavish inclined his head. "I'll leave you now."
As he turned to go, Tiana's gaze fell on Gideon. "And who are you?"
"I'm her bodyguard," Gideon replied calmly. "And an old friend."
"We won't be needing you here." Without waiting for his agreement, Lady Tiana placed a firm hand on his back and ushered him toward the door.
"Now what am I supposed to do?" Gideon muttered as he found a bench in the corridor and sat down. Minutes later, he dozed off with his arms crossed.
Inside, Lady Tiana tested Mariela's knowledge.
"What do you make of this one?" she asked, lifting a small sprig from a tray.
Mariela answered confidently. One after another, she named and described the uses of various herbs. But with each answer, Lady Tiana's expression remained unreadable. Mariela could feel it—the subtle shift. Her textbook knowledge wasn't enough in this setting. She was speaking facts, but not yet mastering practice.
Then a knock interrupted them. A young female servant entered, complaining of recurring headaches.
Tiana turned to her. "Go to the next room. I'll be with you shortly."
She faced Mariela once more. "You said your name was Mariela, correct?"
"Yes, my lady."
"See that corner?" Tiana pointed. "Take that book. Inside are the names of every herb in our storage."
Mariela moved to collect it. "And… what should I do?"
"I've been working alone for too long," Tiana said briskly. "If you could reorganize the storage and label each shelf, that would be a great help. It's not that much."
Before Mariela could ask a single question, Lady Tiana had already swept out of the room.
Left alone, Mariela wandered into the storage chamber. She reached for the light switch—then froze.
Shelf upon shelf towered before her, stacked with jars, boxes, and bundles of dried plants. The space stretched far longer than she expected. A breathless laugh escaped her lips.
"I'm sure it's not that much," she echoed sarcastically.
Then, from the hallway, Lady Tiana's voice called out once more: "The order should be alphabetical."
Mariela sighed deeply. This… was not what she had imagined royal service to be.
In the heart of the palace, Prince Richard stood before the king, his expression serious but composed. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden reflections across the marble floor as he delivered his latest report.
"The placement of Lady Mariela under Lady Tiana's care was a wise move," the prince said, his tone respectful. "She may be harsh, but her standards are unmatched."
The king nodded with quiet approval. "That's precisely why I chose her. Tiana doesn't waste her time on anyone who isn't worth it."
"She'll learn quickly," the prince added. "Mariela has potential."
The king leaned back in his chair, a hint of weariness in his gaze. "And the other matter?"
Richard hesitated, then answered carefully. "He is indeed helping the people of the dead city. How, I haven't yet discerned. I plan to travel there myself soon, to investigate further."
The king exhaled deeply. "It's been two months. How can you help someone who refuses to be helped? That old fool… still as stubborn as ever."
"I'll continue sending aid as we've always done," the prince replied calmly.
The king allowed a brief smile. "That strategy of yours—the fake merchant who scouts regions and builds alliances through trade—it's ingenious."
"Thank you, Sire."
There was a pause, then the king shifted topics with renewed gravity. "I'll need you to ride for Zephas. Bandits from the neighboring kingdom are pressuring the border towns. They're testing us."
The prince's jaw set with determination. "Understood. I'll be your weapon, as always."
The king's expression softened. "Good. Now go—and come back safe, my son."
Richard bowed deeply. "I will."
As he exited the audience chamber, Lavish, ever at his side, awaited instructions. "Ready the chariots and select a guard detail," the prince ordered.
Lavish bowed and hurried off.
On his way through the palace grounds, Richard passed the physician's building and caught sight of Gideon sitting idly on a bench, arms folded, eyes half-closed.
The prince stopped, a grin forming. "You look like you're dying of boredom."
Gideon sat up straighter. "Idle hands, Sire."
"How about a quick spar?"
"If you don't mind me trying," Gideon said, rising swiftly and bowing.
"No titles. Just today—we're two swordsmen."
They made their way to the garden, the late afternoon sun bathing the trimmed hedges and flowering trees in amber light. The palace garden was peaceful, but the atmosphere between the two men pulsed with energy.
Richard handed his cloak to Lavish before he left and unsheathed a wooden training sword. Gideon mirrored him, gripping his own with practiced ease.
"You ready?" the prince asked.
"Always."
The blades met with a sharp crack.
The first blows were calculated—testing, measuring. Gideon's style was precise and restrained, while Richard's was forceful and tactical. Their footwork danced across the stone tiles, each man pressing forward, yielding, and countering in perfect rhythm.
"Come now," Richard said between strikes. "Is that all you've got?"
"Not quite," Gideon murmured.
With a swift shift, Gideon pushed harder—his strikes faster, tighter. Richard adjusted, stepping back, the pressure building. For a moment, the prince faltered, overwhelmed by the precision of Gideon's technique.
But just as suddenly, Gideon pulled back.
He eased his momentum, giving the prince space. Richard lunged, sensing the opportunity—his blade arced toward Gideon, who smoothly stepped aside and dropped to one knee, raising his sword in surrender.
The prince halted, his blade inches from Gideon's neck.
"You yielded?" Richard asked, breathless.
Gideon offered a subtle smirk.
Chuckling, the prince lowered his sword.
As Gideon stood and brushed off his tunic, he bowed again—this time with sincerity.
"Next time," Richard said with a quiet grin, "let's go all out."
"I look forward to it," Gideon replied, still catching his breath.
Lavish returned. "Sire, the chariots are prepared."
"Then let's go. I'm already warmed up," Richard said, grabbing his cloak.
As the prince and his retinue departed, Gideon stood behind and bowed until they vanished from view. A rare smile touched his lips.
"This is… interesting, That wake me up." he muttered to himself.
He turned back toward the physician's building, heading toward Mariela's quarters. Whether she needed him or not, he wanted to be close—just in case.
He felt good.