The chill of the evening air lingered on Seraphina's skin as she stepped back into the palace, the warmth of the corridors a stark contrast to the icy breath of the garden. Her footsteps echoed faintly against the polished marble floors, the hem of her gown trailing behind her like shadows cast in candlelight. Though her stride remained regal, a faint tremor betrayed the cold that had seeped into her bones.
The flicker of firelight danced across the chamber walls as she entered, but before Seraphina could utter a word, Lydia's sharp gaze fell upon her.
"Your Highness!" Lydia's voice was a mixture of alarm and reproach. She stood near the hearth, a poker in hand, adjusting the flames that crackled and roared to life. "You've been out in that wretched cold without so much as a cloak? What were you thinking?"
Seraphina barely had time to react before Lydia bustled toward her, her quick steps stirring the skirts of her simple maid's dress. The warmth of the chamber wrapped around Seraphina like a forgotten embrace, but it wasn't enough to banish the lingering bite of winter.
"I'm fine, Lydia," Seraphina said, though her voice carried a faint rasp. Her cheeks, flushed a soft pink from the cold, and the red hue of her nose betrayed her words. She sniffled, the sound small but enough to make Lydia's lips press into a thin line.
"Fine?" Lydia echoed, her hands already reaching out to touch Seraphina's fingers, which were icy and stiff. "You're freezing, Your Highness! Sit by the fire, now."
Seraphina opened her mouth to protest, but Lydia was already leading her toward the hearth, her tone brooking no argument.
"This is reckless!" Lydia continued, fetching a thick fur-lined blanket and wrapping it around Seraphina's shoulders. "The winter air is unforgiving, and you—of all people—cannot afford such carelessness."
"I wasn't out for long," Seraphina muttered, though even as she spoke, a sudden sneeze betrayed her. She turned away, dabbing at her nose with a silken handkerchief.
"Not long enough to freeze to death, I suppose," Lydia snapped, but her words were softened by the worry creasing her brow. "This will not do. I'm preparing a bath."
Seraphina stiffened. "That's unnecessary, Lydia."
"It's completely necessary," Lydia countered, already heading toward the adjoining room where steam and the scent of herbs were beginning to seep through the doorway.
Resigned, Seraphina leaned closer to the fire, extending her hands toward the flames. The warmth soothed the ache in her fingers, yet the cold clung stubbornly to her skin, refusing to be banished so easily. A cough rose in her throat, soft yet sharp enough to remind her of the chill's lingering grasp.
The sound of water being poured into the copper tub filled the air, accompanied by the gentle hiss of steam rising as heated stones were added to keep the bath warm. Lavender and chamomile drifted into the room, fragrant and calming.
Lydia returned moments later, triumph written across her face. "Your bath is ready, Your Highness. You'll feel better once the heat chases the cold from your bones."
With a sigh, Seraphina rose, her movements slow and deliberate, as though the cold had sapped her strength. She stepped behind the silk privacy screen, where her attendants awaited. Their nimble fingers made quick work of her gown, and the layers of fabric fell away, leaving her exposed to the air once more.
The tub shimmered in the soft light, the surface of the water rippling as she stepped in. The first touch of heat sent a shudder through her, but as she sank deeper, the warmth enveloped her like a lover's embrace. Her muscles relaxed, and for the first time that evening, the tightness in her chest began to ease.
The attendants moved around her with practiced grace, pouring water over her shoulders and through her hair. Drops rolled down her back like rivulets of molten gold, and the tension that had coiled in her body began to unravel.
The scent of lavender filled her lungs, soothing her frayed nerves, but her mind refused to quiet. She thought of the garden, of Kael's dark eyes watching her from afar. She thought of the strange heat that pulsed in her chest whenever he was near, a warmth that defied reason and lingered even now.
Was it her imagination? Or was there truly something about him—something that pulled at the edges of her thoughts like threads waiting to be unraveled?
She leaned back, allowing her hair to float weightlessly in the water, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. The flicker of candlelight cast shifting shadows that seemed almost alive, and for a fleeting moment, she felt as though unseen eyes watched her even here.
The bath ended too soon. Her attendants wrapped her in heated towels, their soft touch gentle as they dried her hair and prepared her for bed. She was dressed in a velvet gown lined with fur, its weight reassuring against her skin, and her hair was braided loosely over one shoulder.
Despite their care, her cheeks remained flushed, and her sneezes persisted. Lydia hovered nearby, her worry manifesting in constant adjustments to the fire and additional blankets.
"This won't do," Lydia said at last, breaking the silence. "You're still unwell. I'm calling for the healer."
"No, Lydia, leave it be," Seraphina said, though her voice was hoarse and another sneeze quickly followed.
"I'm not about to risk your health over stubbornness."
Before Seraphina could protest further, Lydia had already dispatched a servant to summon the healer.
The room fell into silence, broken only by the crackling fire and Seraphina's occasional cough. Her fingers curled around the edges of the blanket, pulling it closer as unease settled in her chest.
The sound of footsteps announced the healer's arrival. Draped in robes of muted green, the figure moved with quiet precision, their satchel jingling faintly with the sound of glass vials and dried herbs.
They knelt before her, their hands cool as they checked her pulse and touched her forehead. Seraphina studied their face, but the hood of their cloak cast deep shadows, leaving their features obscured.
The healer's brow furrowed as they straightened.
"What is it?" Seraphina asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
The healer hesitated, as though weighing their words. "There's… something unusual, Your Highness."
Seraphina's breath caught, her fingers tightening around the blanket. "Unusual? What do you mean?"
The healer's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, their expression unreadable. "I will need to examine you further."
A chill, colder than any winter breeze, crept down her spine.
Was her condition worsening?