The Blissful Sleep at last.
Elara jolted awake, her body trembling as she gasped, "Kael!" The scream tore from her throat, raw and desperate, reverberating in the quiet room.
Her eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion, but the world around her was a blur. She could barely make out shapes—shadows moving in the dimly lit room. Her body felt unbearably heavy, her senses dulled by the fever that burned through her veins.
"She's awake!" a distant voice exclaimed, its tone sharp with both relief and worry.
Elara tried to focus, but the effort was too much. Her eyes fell shut again as whispers swirled around her, her front was pressed against the soft fabric and mattress of a bed. Her back ached with a dull, throbbing pain, and she felt a biting cold that sent shivers down her spine. A groggy awareness hit her as she realized the area around her stab wound had been exposed. Her dress had been carefully loosened at the back, preserving her modesty but allowing access to the injury.
She clenched her fists instinctively, the sensation of vulnerability unsettling her, but her muscles were too weak to respond properly. The sting of something icy pressed against her wound, making her jolt slightly.
"Please relax, Young Miss" a voice pleaded gently but firmly. It was familiar, and yet in her fevered haze, she couldn't place it.
Her head swam as she tried to lift it, but the room spun violently, forcing her to drop back onto the pillow. Her vision blurred, and she could barely make out the shadows of figures moving around her. She caught a faint whiff of lavender, its soothing scent easing the anxiety that threatened to grip her chest.
"Dis she call for Master Kaelion?" someone murmured softly, the tone heavy with unspoken emotion.
"She's been searching for him for years," another replied, their voice measured but tinged with sympathy. "Even now, with everything she's endured, it's no surprise he's the first name on her lips."
Elara's thoughts swirled as the voices reached her ears, the words half-formed in her mind. Kael. The name was both a lifeline and a knife twisting in her chest. She had searched for him relentlessly, clung to every fragment of hope, and yet the acknowledgment of his absence always weighed on her.
Her fingers twitched against the sheets, her mind grasping at fragments of what she'd overheard. A sharp, cold sensation pressed against her back, making her jolt slightly.
"She's burning up," Elara could make out a familiar voice, strained with worry. "The fever isn't breaking, and this wound—it's unlike anything I've seen before."
"The poison," another voice interjected, older and more gravelly. "It's forbidden. Highly complex. Even I don't fully recognize its nature."
"But the Marquis of Lavender would know," physician Calytrix said firmly. "Didn't you say that he's studied nearly every herb and toxin in existence?"
Elara's muddled thoughts clung to the words. Poison? Marquis of Lavender? The information felt disjointed, too fragmented to make sense of. She struggled to open her eyes fully, but the effort was too great.
"I'm using a salve to slow the effects," the elder physician continued, his voice steady and calm. "It's only temporary, but it should buy us time until the Marquis arrives."
The voices shifted, growing softer as they spoke of her condition.
"She's never been like this," someone whispered, almost in disbelief. "Not even when the late grand duchess passed."
"Her mother's death left her hollow," another added quietly. "But she never let anyone see her fall apart. She was stoic—calm on the outside, even when those who truly knew her could see the turmoil within."
"And yet here she is now," the elder physician murmured. "Calling out for her brother and fighting to stay conscious. This poison must be more insidious than we thought."
Elara tried to focus on their words, but her mind drifted. The lavender scent enveloped her senses again, soothing her nerves. It reminded her of something deep in her mind, the faint aroma she'd noticed earlier but hadn't paid much attention to. Now it seemed stronger, more distinct, and oddly comforting, her mother used to love Lavenders.
"She wouldn't be here at all if not for the Crown Prince," one of the voices said, tinged with curiosity.
The mention of the prince stirred something within Elara's foggy mind. The vague memory of his piercing rossy eyes and unwavering presence came to her, though she couldn't fully place it.
"He carried her here himself," the voice continued. "Didn't let her go, not even when the Grand Duke demanded she be handed over. You should have seen it—the tension between those two could have split the room in two."
"I heard," another said with awe laced tone. "The Crown Prince refused outright. He ordered Dren to give him constant updates on her condition and wouldn't leave her side until Dren Lady Lavendra told him that the Young Miss would be furious if the report was not delivered to the Imperial Palace timely."
"The Grand Duke didn't take it well, did he?"
"Of course not," the other replied. "She's the last member of his family. Her well-being is his top priority. But the prince…well, he has his own reasons, doesn't he? He would never even look at her other than when needed but now...."
The elder physician's voice cut through the quiet murmurs. "Enough. How long are you going to gossip about the nobility, if someone hears you.... haa. The girl needs rest, and you're all disturbing her recovery. Out."
There were murmurs of protest, but none dared defy the elder's authority. One by one, the figures in the room began to leave, their footsteps fading into silence.
Time passed in a haze without the soft murmurs of gossip, the fever clouding her mind. At some point, Elara became vaguely aware of a warmth pressing against her back, the elder's hand resting over the wound. It wasn't the salve this time; it was something else—something that radiated from him into her, spreading a soothing heat through her body.
The burning and itching in her wound began to ease, the unbearable sensation giving way to a rare, unfamiliar peace.
"Thank goodness! It's working this time", The old man's voice shook with relief.
Elara exhaled a shaky breath as her body, for the first time in what felt like ages, stopped screaming in agony. The last thing she heard before sleep pulled her into its depths once more, was the elder's calm voice. "Rest now, child. You'll need your strength for what lies ahead."
And then, blessedly, Elara drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.