Finley's POV
"Ugh, I hate these things. They taste terrible," Edward complained, his voice breaking the silence of the night. He had just taken his medication, and it was the first time he openly expressed his disdain for the herbs. His complaint provided the perfect opportunity to ask a question that had been nagging at me since I arrived. I didn't want to be too forward and ask too early, but I've been here for about three fortnights now—that's long enough, I hope.
"What...uh...what are they for?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though I wasn't sure it was working. Edward scrunched his nose in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. He looked at the goblet and then back up at me.
"What do you mean by that? It's for my ail...ohhh, you mean what ailment I have," he said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, finally understanding my question.
"I mean, you really don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable sharing," I added quickly when he opened his mouth to speak.
"Of course I know that. You think I would say something I'm not comfortable with?" he asked, sounding partly annoyed. "Anyway, when I was much younger, I had just turned ten years of age. I was undergoing my normal training. I remember being with my trainer, and the next thing I knew, I was on my bed with healers by my side. Apparently, I had slumped. They concluded it was tiredness, and that was all for about six months until it happened again. They gave me some herbs, but they never worked. I slumped at least twice in a single month.
"The final straw was a year after the first attack on my 11th birthday. There had been a little get-together with nobles. I slumped as usual, but this time I didn't wake up until two days later. That scared my mother and embarrassed my father. They didn't know what to do, so Father confided in Lord Throne, who lived in the castle grounds at the time and was his advisor and personal guard.
"Lord Throne looked around for some healers. They said I had a special ailment and that with every time I passed out, the chances of me dying were higher. They said I'd slump and keep waking until the day I wouldn't anymore. Father didn't want that. You have to have an heir in the kingdom. If you didn't have one, it meant you weren't manly enough to bear a child, and if you weren't man enough, how would you be a capable king? The law of the land is if you have no heir twenty years after you become king, you will be dethroned. The kingship would be given to a different family or the sibling of the king. Naturally, if kings were at risk of this, they got a different woman for that, but Father loves Mother too much for that. What he also loves is power.
"He doesn't have a sibling, so if he doesn't have an heir, it goes to a different family, and we couldn't have that. So my father begged the healers with promises of gold and silver to help them heal me. They did their best, I suppose, found herbs far and wide. They finally found the perfect treatment. I took it for a year without any incidents, and my father was convinced. The herbs make me weak and barely able to lift a finger, but he didn't care— he didn't even mind if I took more just to save face. He doesn't want me able; he simply wants me alive, at least until he's no more. I've been taking the herbs since then and have never had an episode since. That was eight years ago, ten since the first attack."
Edward finished, and I was utterly speechless. There wasn't a single thing I could say in this situation. I didn't know what to do or what to say. I had known about the rules for kings but barely. The last time such a thing happened was more than ten kings ago, so it wasn't something that I put in mind.
I looked at Edward and couldn't help but admire how strong he was. To know the only reason his father wants him alive is because of power... I'm sure if they could find a way to stop him from having such episodes, they could have stopped making him sicker and weak. But King Edmund didn't care about that. All he cared about was the throne, not a single thought spared for his own son.
I needed to do something about this, meet with his healers. There had to be a way to help him without all of these side effects. I was his guard, and it was my duty to ensure he wasn't hurt in any way, even through his medications. But that can wait. Right now, I needed to make sure he knew he wasn't alone.
Wordlessly, I pulled Edward into a hug, wanting him to give me every one of his troubles. I wanted to shield and protect him from everything and everyone who could hurt him, even if that included his father. We stayed in that position for a few moments when his shoulders began to shake, his tears soaking my vest.