Nyriane!
I hear someone calling me from far away.
Nyriane!
The voice is male—my father? My brother?
Princess.
My eyes jolt open. My breath catches in my throat as I scan the unfamiliar room. There's something cool resting on my forehead. I lift a trembling hand and find a damp cloth.
"Princess, you're finally awake!" Friya's voice trembles with relief. "Oh, you had us so worried!"
"Finally?" My voice comes out hoarse, cracking. "How long was I asleep?"
"The night of the funeral," she says quickly, "you collapsed with fever. Lord Commander brought you here himself. You were shivering so badly—the physician stayed all night."
I look down. A light nightgown clings to my skin. "So… how long has it been?"
"Two days since the funeral," Friya says, answering the question I hadn't voiced aloud. "You didn't stir at all yesterday. The physician said you needed rest, but…" Her voice trails off.
The last thing I remember is the final handful of dirt falling over my father's grave. I must've fainted.
"I'll tell the Lord Commander you're awake," she says, hurrying out before I can ask why he would care.
I lean back against the headboard, swallowing hard.
The door opens again. Kaelen enters—no armor this time, just a black shirt and trousers. Friya follows, her steps light.
"You're awake," he says, crossing the room. He places the back of his hand on my forehead.
I recoil instinctively. His touch is too warm. Too personal.
"I said I'm fine."
"The physician will decide that. He's on his way."
"I don't need a physician."
"Friya, wait at the entrance for him," Kaelen says, eyes never leaving mine.
"Your ignoring me"
"I'm not. I'm ignoring your comments, because they're foolish."
"Did you just call me a fool?"
"No. I called your comments foolish. There's a difference."
"Oh really?" I narrow my eyes. "And what would that be?"
"An intelligent person can say foolish things. A fool, on the other hand, is consistent."
The glare I give him is sharp enough to cut steel.
The physician enters just then. Young. Far too young to be a physician, with kind eyes and a disarming smile. Probably Kaelen's age.
"Ah, awake at last," he says, cheerfully. "You gave us quite the scare." He checks under my eyes, then lifts my wrist to take my pulse.
"And you are…?"
"Oh, forgive me! You wouldn't remember—your fever was 104." He laughs easily and extends his hand. "Princess Nyriane, I'm Dr. Sievers. Pleased to meet you properly."
I hesitate, but take it. "Pleased to meet you as well… Dr. Sievers, was it?"
"Yes! Named after a long family tradition of gold sieving near the lakes. But I chose medicine. Quite the rebellion, eh?" He winks.
Kaelen shifts. Just slightly, but I see it—the tightening of his jaw. The small tic near his temple.
"I think you should finish examining the patient," Kaelen says coolly.
"Of course, Lord Commander," Sievers replies with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes now.
He finishes quickly. "No fever, no dehydration, and no signs of brain damage," he teases. "She's in perfect health. All I prescribe is hot meals and fresh air."
"Will that be all?" Kaelen asks, voice clipped.
"Yes. I'll take my leave."
"Thank you, Dr. Sievers," I say with a small smile.
"Hopefully you'll remain in good health if not you know who to call" Dr. Sievers gives me a slight wink from the angel he is sat only I am able to see it. I can't help the small chuckle that escapes my lips.
The door shuts behind him.
I feel Kaelen's glare like a frost creeping up my skin. I meet his gaze—and only then does he look away.
"You should eat something," he says, voice softer now. "Later, if you're able, you may walk in the garden. But you're not to leave the manor grounds. Understood?"
"I want to go to my brother," I say evenly, holding his gaze. "Let me go back to Saelow."
"Friya make sure she eats" Kaelen exits the room without giving me a second glance.
"I'll bring you some soup" Friya says somberly and she too leaves.
Once I am alone, I close my eyes. I can't keep crying I need gather my strength, once I'm well enough I will escape.
Kaelen's POV
"The kingdoms of Bathora, Carrick, Pantheon, and Warmick have all condemned the taking of the princess," Harlin reports, placing each letter carefully in front of me. "They demand we return her to Prince Saelow immediately."
He doesn't need to add the weight behind the words. I can feel it already pressing against my temples.
"There's also this," he says, gesturing to a stack of open letters. "More from the prince himself."
I pick one up. Instead of pleading, the boy threatens. His tone is sharp—entitled.
"He's bold," I say flatly.
"He's reckless," Harlin replies. "And lucky to have foreign backing."
I set the letter down without reading further. "The kingdoms have never supported us. They fear their own revolts more than they care about Velmoria. They won't act."
"But we can't keep her like this much longer, Lord Commander."
"I have other priorities," I say, leaning back. "I'll decide what to do with her when the time comes."
Harlin hesitates. "I still believe General Romner had a point. The people responded well—after the funeral."
I look up. His tone is too careful.
"Harlin."
"I mean only to suggest—"
"I know exactly what you're suggesting." My voice sharpens. "I haven't forgotten the principles my father raised me with. I won't parade her about for the sake of strategy."
He bows slightly. "Forgive me, your grace. I spoke out of turn."
Harlin leaves, and silence returns to the room—unwelcome and loud. I close my eyes for a moment and exhale slowly.
"Let me go back to Saelow."
Her voice lingers in my head. She'd looked me straight in the eye when she said it. No trembling. No plea. Just resolve.
A knock interrupts my thoughts.
"Enter."
Eryndor steps in with his usual precision. "You summoned me, Lord Commander?"
"Yes. How long left in Sievers' contract?"
"Just under two months."
"Transfer him when it ends. Assign him to the town clinic."
Eryndor hesitates. "Very well. And his replacement?"
"Find someone older. More seasoned."
"I'll begin at once."
He leaves with a bow. I don't move.
I grit my teeth just remembering it.
She smiled at him.
Laughed, even.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and stare at the dying fire in the hearth.
What is wrong with me?l