As the despised princess, Josephine had perpetually yearned for the elusive affection of Duke Eldritch, despite his unwavering indifference towards her. This relentless longing, entwined with her perceived frailty and her failure to harness the formidable powers bestowed upon her, had earned her the scornful moniker of "the hated princess" among the circles of royalty.
Duke Eldritch's unwavering devotion to the enchanting Lady Elaenor only served to intensify the animosity directed at Josephine. Lady Elaenor, with her cunning and artifice, would often feign injury, provoking Duke Eldritch's impulsive response to her defense, rendering Josephine increasingly isolated in her plight.
Exhausted by the relentless scorn from the populace, the contempt of her brothers, and the emotional detachment of Duke Eldritch, Josephine awoke one fateful morning with a newfound resolve. She vowed, with a heart heavy yet resolute, to cease her futile pursuit of Duke Eldritch's regard and to relinquish her desperate yearning for her brothers' attention. In that moment of clarity, she sought to reclaim her dignity and fortify her spirit against the enmity that had long surrounded her.
For the past six months, Duke Eldritch had enveloped himself in an unusual silence, his thoughts ensnared by the enigma of Josephine's sudden transformation. It had been six months since he had last basked in her daily greetings and the warmth of her attentions, and though he would never dare to confess it aloud, a strange void had begun to form within him—a longing for the very affections he had previously taken for granted. Yet, the fortress of his pride stood resolute, forbidding any admission of such vulnerability.
Absently, he traversed the opulent halls of the palace, his gaze instinctively seeking Josephine, only to find her conspicuously absent. Each step echoed with an uncharacteristic emptiness, a reminder of her absence that gnawed at him.
It was in the palace gardens, amidst the fragrant blooms and the gentle rustle of leaves, that he finally caught sight of her. Princess Josephine was bent over a bed of flowers, her delicate fingers tending to their vibrant petals with a tenderness that stirred something deep within him. In that fleeting moment, his heart betrayed him, skipping a beat at the sight of her, yet he swiftly masked his emotions, striving to appear unfazed.
Clearing his throat, he broke the tranquil silence with an air of nonchalance. "Busy with the flowers, princess?" he inquired, his countenance carefully crafted to conceal the tumult beneath.
Without so much as a glance in his direction, Josephine continued her labor, her voice cutting through the air with an icy clarity. "Your Grace, what a pleasure it is to have you grace my humble endeavor. Though, I must confess, I would prefer solitude at this moment," she replied, her tone laced with a coolness that contrasted sharply with her previous warmth.
Duke Eldritch let out a humorless chuckle, the sound tinged with disbelief at her stark demeanor. It was a striking departure from the vivacity she had once exhibited in his presence. Leaning against a nearby stone wall, he observed her with a blend of fascination and frustration, watching her delicate hands dance among the blossoms, lost in her own world, as if the very act of nurturing these flowers had become her refuge from the harsh reality of their lives.
"Always so blunt, aren't you, Princess?" Duke Eldritch remarked, a hint of playful sarcasm lacing his words. "I recall a time when you would have been positively elated merely to bask in my attention."
"Oh yes, I remember that as well," she replied, a wry smile playing at the corners of her lips. "But upon reflection, I find myself rather vexed by my previous demeanor. I am quite pleased to have embraced this change."
Duke Eldritch raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the candidness of her admission. Her willingness to confront her past behavior was unexpected, a revelation that stirred his curiosity. He stepped closer, positioning himself beside her as she meticulously tended to the blossoms, their vibrant hues contrasting with the somber atmosphere between them.
"And what, may I ask, has prompted this sudden metamorphosis?" he inquired, his gaze intent upon the delicate profile of Josephine, the sunlight casting a soft glow upon her features.
"Why dig for gold when one can unearth a diamond instead?" she responded enigmatically, her eyes still focused on the flowers, as if they held the secrets to her newfound wisdom.
Duke Eldritch furrowed his brow, momentarily stunned by her unexpected analogy. A chuckle escaped his lips, revealing his amusement at her cleverness. "And you consider your previous pursuit of me... 'digging for gold'?" he teased, his tone light yet probing.
"No," she replied, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a heavy mist. "I was digging for nothing."
The Duke was momentarily rendered speechless, the sharpness of her declaration piercing through the playful banter. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, a servant approached, interrupting the charged moment. "Your Grace, the King is ready to see you. He awaits your presence in the throne room," the servant announced, bowing slightly.
Duke Eldritch cast a lingering glance at Josephine, her expression a mixture of defiance and clarity, before reluctantly turning his attention to the duty that beckoned him. The moment hung between them, charged with unspoken words and unresolved sentiments, as he prepared to depart, the echoes of their conversation resonating in the quiet of the garden.
With a heavy sigh, Duke Eldritch turned away and made his way toward the throne room, casting one last glance at the princess. Josephine stood there, a figure seemingly shrouded in shadows, the once-vibrant light in her eyes extinguished long ago. Her transformation was stark and unsettling; she now donned a somber black dress that clung to her form like a veil of mourning, a stark contrast to the bright pink she had once favored—a symbol of her former exuberance.
As the young duke departed, Josephine's gaze was drawn to a sudden commotion in the palace corridors. A knight rushed past, his expression a mask of urgency as he cradled something—or perhaps someone—within his arms. The sight sent a ripple of confusion through her; what could compel a knight to move with such frantic haste?
Driven by an insatiable curiosity and a growing sense of foreboding, Josephine resolved to uncover the truth behind the knight's urgency. With determination coursing through her veins, she set off in pursuit, her footsteps swift and silent as she followed the knight through the winding halls of the palace. Each step echoed with a mix of trepidation and intrigue, her heart racing as she contemplated the possibilities of what lay ahead.
As she rounded a corner, the knight disappeared through the door of the apprentice physician's chamber. The air around her thickened with uncertainty, and she hesitated for a brief moment before summoning her courage to push the door open just enough to peer inside. The flickering light of a single lantern revealed a scene that sent a shiver down her spine—an atmosphere heavy with tension, and the unmistakable scent of urgency permeating the air.
"What has transpired?" she whispered to herself, her heart pounding in her chest. The knight's rush seemed to promise something momentous, and Josephine felt an unquenchable need to understand the unfolding drama. With resolve, she stepped further into the dimly lit room, her curiosity urging her onward, determined to uncover the truth that lay hidden within the shadows.
★
Arnold gently laid the girl upon the bed, the soft fabric cradling her as if it were a tender embrace. A young man, Lucian, stood vigil by her side, an air of concern etched upon his features. "I hope you understand that if anyone discovers this, we shall find ourselves in grave peril," Lucian cautioned, his voice a low murmur.
"I am aware," Arnold replied with solemnity. "I will bear the consequences. Just please, check on her. She has not stirred for days." His eyes flickered with worry as he regarded the unconscious girl, a haunting stillness enveloping the room.
"Where did you find her?" Lucian inquired, his brow furrowing as he examined the girl's pale visage.
"My brother-in-law and his son discovered her near the woods. They claim she was attacked, yet I see no signs of injury," Arnold recounted, a shadow of doubt crossing his features.
"Hmm," Lucian mused, placing his fingers gently upon her wrist. "She appears to be in a coma. The Aetherbloom root is the only remedy known to rouse her from this state. However, if you prefer to wait for her to awaken naturally, that is your choice." He studied the girl intently, his gaze lingering on the golden bracelet encircling her wrist, a curiosity shining in his eyes.
"Is she a slave, then? Why is this gold bound around her wrist?" Lucian questioned, attempting to slide the bracelet off with cautious fingers.
"Perhaps she is. It's possible she escaped," Arnold speculated, a hint of sorrow threading through his voice.
"Regardless, if you are willing, you must search for the Aetherbloom root. I trust you know what it looks like?" Lucian queried, receiving a nod from Arnold. "It is elusive, but persistence will yield results. In the meantime, I shall attend to her," Lucian stated, his resolve firm.
Suddenly, a voice, rich and commanding, sliced through the tension in the room. "Why do you need Aetherbloom root?" The unexpected question startled both men, causing them to spin around and drop to their knees, their hearts racing in alarm.
"Your Highness," Lucian greeted, the surprise evident in his tone. Princess Josephine stood before them, her presence both regal and intimidating. Known for her fiery temper, her mere appearance was enough to instill a sense of urgency in those of lower rank, compelling them to show her the respect her title demanded.
Arnold and Lucian knelt before her, their forms low to the ground, acutely aware of the weight of her gaze upon them. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the fate of their actions hanging precariously in the balance as they awaited her response.