Chapter - 8
"Master, master, wake up, please."
A soft voice and a gentle shake stirred me from sleep. I blinked my eyes open, yawning as I stretched and rubbed the last of the drowsiness away. Sunlight was streaming into the room in a warm cascade through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow across the polished floors and rich fabrics of the chamber.
Standing before me was Nimera, the young feline servant whose red hair framed her face with a slight, natural wildness. Her emerald eyes sparkled as she offered me a warm smile, her feline ears perked with attentiveness.
"Good morning, Master," she said softly. "Breakfast will be served in half an hour, and the Queen has requested that you join her this morning."
Right on cue, my stomach rumbled—a reminder of how I'd neglected to eat the night before.
"Thank you for waking me, Nimera," I murmured, sitting up and letting my feet touch the floor. "I'll take a quick wash and be there shortly."
With a nod, Nimera stepped back, letting me rise fully. I made my way toward the bath chamber and as I entered, I was struck by its opulence. The space was quite expansive, with all the sanitary ware you'd expect. In the center, several marble pillars stood in a circle, surrounding a large, sunken tub set into the floor. A series of wide stone steps led down into the bath, which was already filled with steaming water.
The scent of subtle, soothing herbs lingered in the warm mist, filling the room with a calming fragrance. The bath had been designed to invite relaxation.
As I took in the sight, the sound of soft footsteps approached from behind. I glanced over my shoulder to see Nimera stepping into the bathroom. She carried a small bottle of fragrant oils with her.
"I've already prepared the bath with warm water for you, Master," she said. "The weather's a bit chilly this morning, so I made sure it was extra warm." She moved closer, extending her hand to me with a graceful dip of her head.
I took her hand, her fingers slender but firm in their gentle grip, and she led me down the steps toward the tub's edge. Without hesitation, she reached up to help me out of my clothes. She folded each garment neatly, setting them aside.
"Please, enjoy your bath, Master," she murmured, stepping back to give me space.
I stepped into the tub, submerging myself in the inviting warmth. The water embraced me, and I could feel the heat seeping into my muscles, easing away the remnants of sleep and lingering tension. I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment, letting myself fully soak in the sensation. The fragrant oils infused the water, filling my senses with a blend of lavender and cedarwood.
As I relaxed into the warmth, I felt a gentle pressure on my shoulders. Surprised, I opened my eyes to find Nimera seated at the edge of the tub behind me.
"Let me help you relax, Master," she said. Her hands, light yet skilled, began to work on my shoulders, applying gentle pressure in just the right places.
Her fingers moved in slow, circular motions, easing out the knots of tension that had built up. Her hands worked with practiced rhythm as she continued to massage along my neck and shoulders. The sensation was calming, her fingers skilled in finding just the right points to press.
I almost forgot where I was and fell asleep again. "That feels wonderful, Nimera," I murmured softly.
"It's my pleasure, Master," she replied.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally roused myself from the bath. Nimera, ever attentive, was there to offer a hand as I stepped out, water streaming off me and pooling on the gleaming tiles. She held out a soft, warmed towel, and I accepted it gratefully, drying off as she moved to retrieve a fresh set of clothes. The fabric was rich but comfortable—a deep royal blue tunic trimmed in silver with a pair of tailored trousers in dark gray.
Nimera helped me slip into the tunic, smoothing out the collar and fastening the silver clasps at the front.
"Thank you, Nimera," I said softly, meeting her gaze as she made the final adjustments. She smiled in return, bowing her head just slightly before stepping aside to let me head to breakfast.
The castle halls were quiet but alive with early-morning activity, the light filtering in through high windows as I made my way to the dining hall. My footsteps echoed softly off the polished marble floors, and a sense of familiarity mixed with the surreal as I passed tapestries and portraits I dimly recognized from my new memories.
When I reached the dining room, Queen Lirael was already seated at the head of the table. She looked up as I entered, her gaze softening with something like pride. With a welcoming smile, she gestured to the seat beside her, and I took my place. As I settled into the chair, she leaned in, her lips brushing softly against mine as she gave me a light kiss.
"Good morning, Damon," she murmured.
The doors opened, and servants filed in, bringing with them trays laden with the morning's spread. Plates of fresh bread, golden-crisp on the outside and soft within, were placed alongside bowls of fresh fruit. There were pastries, honey-drenched and filled with spiced creams, and steaming plates of eggs, sausages, and roasted vegetables.
As we began to eat, Queen Lirael watched me with a careful eye, as though she still couldn't believe I was here, awake and well.
"Damon," she said after a pause, setting down her fork, "I've been thinking. I want to arrange a ceremony as quickly as possible to announce your recovery. The court has been buzzing with rumors and whispers for years now, and I want to put every question to rest. And," she added with a faint smile, "I'd like to silence those nobles who've been pestering me about you since you fell ill."
I nodded. "Of course, Mother. I think that would be a wise move."
She looked pleased with my response, her lips curving in satisfaction. "Good. And you know, a mere ceremony might not be enough to mark such an occasion." She tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the table, a sparkle of excitement in her eyes. "What if we hosted a grand ball afterward? It would help reintroduce you to the nobles."
"A ball would be… interesting," I said.
"And, Damon," Lirael continued, a hint of mischief playing on her face, "I'd like to introduce you to the daughters of some prominent noble families. It's high time you met those who may be suitable candidates for you to marry."
I paused mid-bite at her words. She really was determined to find a bride for me. Lirael placed her hand over mine, "You can have anyone you want, my son. This is an opportunity for you to see what's out there—who's out there. You'll have your choice, as you should."
As we continued our meal, discussing plans for the ceremony, a ball, and the possibilities the future held, a quiet but steady clink of metal signaled someone approaching. I looked up as a knight in polished armor entered, his face half-shadowed under his helm. He stopped a respectful distance from the Queen, bowing low.
"Your Majesty," he greeted. As he straightened, his eyes shifted to me, widening slightly with unmistakable surprise as he saw me sitting upright, awake and healthy. A look of astonishment crossed his face, quickly replaced by a formal expression, and he dipped his head in a respectful nod toward me.
"Your Highness," he said, the faintest trace of wonder still in his voice. It was clear that he, like many others, had only known me as the pale, bedridden prince who had lingered between life and death.
"Welcome, Sir Alric," Queen Lirael acknowledged with a small nod. "What news?"
The knight seemed to gather himself, returning his attention to her. "The court is awaiting your presence, Your Majesty. They are eager for today's council, as there is much to discuss."
Queen Lirael sighed, her expression softening as she glanced at me, clearly reluctant to leave. "Ah, duty calls," she murmured, rising to her feet gracefully. She leaned down, her hand brushing my cheek as she placed a kiss on my forehead. "I must go, though I would much rather spend the morning here with you."
Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, her hand warm against my cheek, before she withdrew. Then, straightening herself, she turned and swept from the dining hall.