Rena was halfway down the winding corridor leading to her father's private suite when a strange hush settled over the palace. At first, she noticed only the absence of bustling servants or patrolling guards in the usually busy hallway. Then, from a side passage, she heard muffled voices—urgent, low in tone, as though people argued but did not want to be overheard. She paused, pressing a hand to the cold stone wall, straining to catch a word or two.
A moment later, two maids emerged, exchanging troubled glances. They spotted Rena and dropped quick curtsies. The younger of the pair wore an anxious pinch in her brow, as though something heavy weighed on her mind. She opened her mouth, as though to speak, but the older maid touched her elbow, silencing her. Then both lowered their eyes and hurried away without another word.
Rena's pulse kicked up a notch. Tension in the palace was hardly unusual—days of negotiations and subtle power plays had everyone on edge—but a furtive argument among staff in the normally tranquil servant corridors made her suspect new rumors were brewing. Forcing a steady breath, she pressed on, determined to visit King Darius. If anything urgent had erupted, she trusted Gareth or Lady Halene would find her. Still, disquiet tugged at the corner of her thoughts.
When she reached her father's door, the two guards stationed there offered polite bows. One announced her presence, then opened the door. Inside, King Darius lay propped against a mound of pillows, brow damp with perspiration despite the gentle breeze drifting in through an open window. Queen Maribel stood at his side, her face drawn with concern. At a small table near the foot of the bed, a physician busily mixed medicinal herbs. The air smelled of rosemary, thyme, and something sharper that Rena couldn't identify.
Her mother's gaze snapped to Rena with visible relief. "My dear, come quickly. Your father's fever returned an hour ago, and it's spiked faster than any previous onset." She spoke with subdued urgency, as though keeping her voice calm for the king's sake. "The physician believes an infection might have flared in his lungs again."
A cold shock seized Rena's heart. She moved to the bedside, gently taking King Darius's hand. His eyes opened, cloudy with discomfort, and he managed a faint nod. Sweat beaded on his temples, and his breathing sounded labored. "Father," she whispered, leaning down so he would hear. "I'm here."
He exhaled a shaky breath, pain evident in the pinch of his features. "Rena… I didn't want to bother you." His voice rasped, lacking the strength he'd shown in recent days. "But… this came on quickly."
Queen Maribel dabbed his brow with a cloth. "He's struggling, child. I'm frightened. We were making progress, but this feels like a relapse."
Rena's throat tightened. "Let me try," she said softly. She glanced at the physician, who nodded, stepping back to give her space. Each time she had healed her father before, it had taken a toll on her own reserves. But seeing him in such distress banished any thought of hesitation. If there was a chance to ease his suffering, she would take it.
She perched on the edge of the bed and pressed her palm to King Darius's chest. Closing her eyes, she conjured that wellspring of warmth within, the one that had illuminated her earliest attempts at healing. Almost at once, the familiar silver-white glow licked around her fingertips. She pictured the infection as dark threads woven through his lungs, binding him to a choking fever, and she urged them to loosen. The effort tugged at her stamina; she felt a wave of dizziness and forced herself to focus on calm, steady breaths. Hold on, just hold on.
King Darius gave a muffled groan, and for several heartbeats, the only sounds were the rattle of his breath and the faint stir of wind at the window. Sweat traced a line down Rena's spine; the energy flowing from her felt greater than any other time she had healed him, as though the illness fought back. Slowly, though, she sensed a mild uncoiling. His breathing grew a fraction smoother, the fever's searing heat no longer quite so intense under her hand.
Eventually, the light dimmed, her gift receding, leaving her shoulders heavy and her lungs oddly tight. She lowered her hand, blinking away a spot of darkness from the corners of her vision. Queen Maribel caught her arm, steadying her. King Darius's eyes fluttered open, still fogged with discomfort but not quite so pained.
"How do you feel?" Rena breathed, her own voice trembling with fatigue.
He gave a slight nod. "Less… fire in my chest." His gaze flicked to her mother. "She's done it again, Maribel."
The queen let out a soft cry of relief, tears trembling on her lashes. "Yes, my love, she has. Rest now. Let the fever subside." She turned to the physician, who immediately approached to check the king's pulse and temperature. Quietly, he confirmed that the fever appeared to be dropping, though caution remained. Rena sank back, a whirl of exhaustion draining her limbs. She forced herself to remain upright, heart pounding from the intense healing.
King Darius exhaled shakily, managing a weak smile. "I knew… your presence would help. My precious daughter."
Tears pricked Rena's own eyes, but she swallowed them down. This moment, fragile though it was, counted as a victory. If only she could root out the cause of his relapses entirely. She recalled Aunt Sorren's wise caution: sometimes an ailment lurked deeper than any visible wound. Perhaps something inside the king's body resisted normal healing, or maybe it required more frequent sessions of her gift than she could sustain alone.
Queen Maribel wrapped an arm around Rena, pulling her into a side embrace. "Thank you," she whispered, voice thick. "We rely on you so much."
Rena nodded into her mother's shoulder, too drained to speak. A fleeting sense of guilt nagged her—she was no trained physician, just a young woman with a power she barely understood. How many more times could she stave off the king's illness before it triumphed?
The door cracked open, and Gareth slipped inside, eyes darting over the scene. On seeing Rena's tired posture, he came forward, concern etched in his face. "I heard he'd taken a turn," he said quietly, then studied Rena's pale features. "You're unsteady."
"I'll be fine," she insisted, though her voice trembled with the aftershock of her healing. "Father's fever is receding."
Gareth nodded, relief softening his features. "Thank the fates. If you need anything, I'll fetch it." He spared a glance at the physician, who appeared satisfied with King Darius's calmer state, then returned his gaze to Rena. "Rumors are already spreading of some commotion. Did something else happen while you were here?"
Rena blinked. "Commotion? I only arrived to find Father in this condition." She recalled the maids she'd overheard whispering near the corridor. "I did hear hushed voices, though I assumed it was about my father's relapse."
A troubled look flickered over Gareth's face. "It may be more. I overheard two guards outside speaking about unusual restlessness among certain nobles. Something about a secret meeting. The details are unclear, but apparently whispers of 'quiet rebellions' are floating around."
Queen Maribel straightened at that, her voice sharpening. "We can't ignore the possibility that Lord Severin or one of his close allies is stoking dissent. For all we know, they could be searching for ways to erode Rena's credibility or push for broader powers while the king is weak."
King Darius stirred, dragging himself more upright with the physician's help. Despite clear exhaustion, he managed an earnest firmness in his tone. "Let them conspire. We must stay vigilant. Rena, you must stay vigilant."
She met his eyes, fear and resolve colliding inside her. "I promise I won't let them undermine us, Father. But you must conserve your strength."
He nodded, leaning back against the pillows. "I'll do my best. For now, perhaps Gareth and Halene can investigate these rumors, ensure no plot festers unchecked."
Rena brushed a damp lock of hair from her father's forehead, feeling the fever's heat ebbing. "I'll speak with Halene right away. Mother, will you remain here?"
Queen Maribel offered a weary but grateful nod. "I'll stay with your father to make sure his fever doesn't rebound. Go, child. Root out this talk of rebellion before it grows."
Stepping away from the bed, Rena squeezed her father's hand gently, then let Gareth guide her toward the door. She felt as if the walls of the castle were closing in, each corridor harboring secret alliances or half-voiced conspiracies. Before, her struggles had focused on external threats—bandits, potential war. Now, more than ever, she feared danger was turning inward, spurred by ambition and rumors that thrived in the vacuum of King Darius's failing health.
They emerged into the corridor, Rena's knees still shaky. Gareth offered an arm for support, and she took it, swallowing pride. As they moved away from the royal suite, servants whisked by with linens or trays of half-eaten meals, each stepping with hushed caution. The hush of the palace felt pregnant with unknown tensions.
"Quiet rebellions," Rena murmured under her breath. "Severin probably has a hand in this. Or at least stands to benefit if people lose faith in Father or in me."
Gareth's mouth drew into a grim line. "We'll find out soon enough. If there's a conspiracy brewing, the steward's name is likely in the middle. Let's see what Lady Halene knows. Maybe we can unravel this before it surfaces in a more dangerous form."
Rena forced herself to quicken her pace, ignoring the fatigue gnawing at her every step. She was princess to Silverstrand, and though her healing powers served in times of fever and wounds, she needed a different kind of strength now—one that could shield her father and her kingdom from the shadows creeping through the palace corridors.