"Young prince, your father wishes to see you. Let's get you dressed," said the maid, Ora, her hands smoothing the folds of Raizel's tunic. Her brown hair framed her face, and her warm eyes seemed distant, though she forced a small smile.
Raizel's small frame sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling over the side. His eyes lingered on the silver embroidery of his tunic, but his mind wandered. He wasn't fully listening to Ora as he stared at the floor, where small dust particles danced in the streaks of sunlight coming through the window.
"Thank you," Raizel mumbled, his voice soft but carrying the weight of an unspoken worry. His head tilted slightly, noticing the flicker of something strange in Ora's expression. It was the same expression he had seen on so many faces as of late—a concern too heavy to hide, a sadness too thick to dismiss.
Ora hesitated, her hands stilling for a moment as she took a deep breath. The moment of silence stretched until it was almost too much for her to bear. She turned her gaze away, her eyes glistening. "You should visit your mother before you see your father," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as though the words themselves were too much to carry.
Raizel blinked, confused. "But… Father said I was to go to him."
Ora's hands fumbled at the sleeve of Raizel's tunic, though her thoughts were far from the task at hand. "Your father is busy, and he—" She paused, her lips pressed tightly together. "Your mother… She needs rest. Your father… he believes prayer is what she needs most." Ora's voice faltered with each word. "But…" She bit her lip, a quiet sob threatening to escape. "But I think it may be too late."
Raizel looked up, the full impact of her words not yet reaching him. "What do you mean? Is Mother sick?"
Ora could barely meet his eyes as she swallowed her tears. "Just go see her, Raizel. Please."
As Ora hurried out of the room, Raizel sat there, unsure of how to feel. His thoughts were a haze of confusion and doubt. Was his mother really that sick? Would she die? He had only just learned about illness in the last few months. It seemed like such a faraway thing, something that couldn't touch him. But now, it felt too real. Too close.
Shaking himself from the heavy weight of his thoughts, Raizel stood and walked toward the door, his small hand reaching for the handle. His chest tightened with a mixture of confusion and worry. He didn't fully understand, but he trusted Ora. If she said something was wrong, then something surely was.
Raizel stepped into the corridor, the cold stone beneath his feet a stark contrast to the warmth of the room he had just left. The castle was quiet at this hour, the distant sounds of servants preparing for the day muffled in the stillness of the hallways.
His steps echoed softly, the walls towering on either side of him, as if the entire castle was silently watching. At his side was Sir Eric John, a young knight and a member of the First Shields, the elite group tasked with protecting the royal family. His presence comforted Raizel in a way few others could.
Eric was a tall young man, with blonde hair that shone in the light and eyes that always seemed to carry a quiet, steadfast resolve. He had been with Raizel since the prince's early years, and though Raizel didn't fully understand what it meant to be a knight, he knew that Eric was someone he could trust.
"Your Highness," Eric spoke softly, sensing the weight in the air. "Your father is waiting for you."
Raizel frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. He hadn't been thinking about his father, not really. "I need to see my mother," he said with a determined tone. His small voice betrayed the urgency he was feeling, the concern that made his heart race in his chest. "Ora said I should see her."
Eric looked down at the young prince, his expression softening. His job was to protect the prince, and he had always felt a deep sense of responsibility toward the young boy. But Eric also knew the weight of duty—his duty to the king, to the realm. And that duty would always come first.
But today, in this moment, Raizel's pain pulled at his heart. He couldn't ignore it.
Eric placed a reassuring hand on Raizel's shoulder. "Your father told me that your mother just needs rest and prayer," he said, his voice calm, trying to ease the young prince's anxiety. "I'm sure she's fine."
Raizel shook his head, the uncertainty swirling within him. "But I want to see her. I want to make sure she's okay."
Eric's jaw clenched for a moment as he sighed softly. He wanted to deny Raizel, to take him to the king as he had been instructed. But the boy was too concerned. It wasn't right to push him away now.
Eric bent down on one knee, bringing himself to the prince's level, his gaze firm but gentle. "Let's take this detour, Your Highness," he said, a quiet smile forming on his lips. "We'll check on her together."
Raizel blinked, his wide eyes searching Eric's face. Slowly, he nodded, his heart still heavy but relieved by the knight's promise.
The two of them turned down a side hallway, their footsteps growing louder as they approached the queen's chambers.
Two guards stood at the entrance to the queen's chambers, flanking the thick, heavy doors like statues of iron. The first was a broad-chested man, his muscular frame straining against the confines of his chestplate. His companion was just as solidly built, though where one bore rich brown hair, the other's locks were a striking shade of blonde.
It looked like the guards didn't care much for formality. They were slouched against the walls, their spears tipped lazily on the ground next to them. The faint sound of clinking came from one of them as he lifted a flask to his lips, tipping it back for another swig.
Raizel's heart thudded in his chest as he approached. Eric's hand instinctively moved to his sword, but he kept it sheathed. He was trying to remain composed, though there was a growing anger in his gut at the sight of these two men.
Eric cleared his throat loudly. "His Highness would like to see Queen Vela Sapphire."
The first guard squinted at them, his eyes half-lidded as he squinted through the haze of drunkenness. "Does the king know about this?" he slurred, eyeing them with a lack of interest.
The second guard, grinning as he wiped his mouth, let out a loud hiccup. "The king knows," he mumbled. "What's it to you, eh?"
Raizel felt his stomach churn. He was used to seeing guards in their uniforms, standing tall and proud, keeping the peace. But these men—these men didn't seem like they cared about anything, let alone his mother.
Eric's voice tightened, his patience thinning. "This is no way to behave," he said sharply, the reprimand carrying an edge of authority. His eyes never wavered from the two guards, and for a brief moment, the air around them grew heavy with tension.
One of the guards snickered, though the sound was more of a grunt than laughter. "Oh, look, it's the knight who thinks he's better than us," he sneered, taking another long drink. "What's a little drink between friends? Go tell your prince to wait. Ain't nobody got time for him right now."
Eric stepped forward, his posture stiffening, his hand now fully resting on the hilt of his sword. His voice was cold. "Open the door. The prince has a right to see his mother."
The second guard stumbled forward, his steps unsteady, and barely managed to open the door. "Fine, fine." he grumbled, his words slurred as he pushed the door open, barely able to focus.
Raizel could see his mother's chambers beyond the door, dimly lit by the soft glow of candles. He didn't know what to expect inside, but he felt a wave of dread wash over him.
As Eric led him inside, Raizel's heart pounded in his chest. Whatever awaited him in that room, he knew it would change everything.
Raizel stepped into the room, his chest tightening as the familiar scent of lavender and her favorite jasmine perfume wrapped around him. The soft golden glow of the candles gave the space a gentle warmth, like the embrace he always sought from her when the world felt too big.
His eyes fell first on the large canopy bed, draped in the same sapphire-blue curtains that he used to hide behind during their games of hide-and-seek. He could almost hear her laugh, soft and musical, as she pretended not to find him, only to scoop him up moments later and pepper his cheeks with kisses.
The small table beside her bed held a silver tray with a teacup and vials of medicine, but his gaze lingered on the book beside them. It was her old storybook, the one she used to read to him at night. He could still hear her voice weaving tales of brave men and magical lands, her fingers brushing through his hair as she lulled him to sleep.
A vase of wildflowers sat on the windowsill, their colors fading but still vibrant enough to remind him of the days she would take him to the gardens. He remembered running through the blossoms, her laughter echoing as she scolded him for getting his clothes dirty. She would always end up joining him, her crown tilted as she knelt to pick flowers for their little bouquets.
On her vanity lay her sapphire pendant, the one she never let anyone else touch. But once, when he was younger, she had draped it around his neck and laughed softly as he puffed out his chest, pretending to be royalty. "You'll make a fine king someday, Raizel," she'd said, her voice full of pride and love.
Raizel's gaze returned to her now, lying still beneath the heavy blankets. Her face was pale but peaceful, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. He took a step closer, his hand brushing against the wooden bird on her pillow—a crude carving he had made for her last spring. He remembered the way her eyes had lit up when he gave it to her, as if it were the most precious gift in the world.
He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. He wanted to reach out, to hold her hand like she had done so many times when he was afraid. Instead, he stood there, his mind filled with memories of her warmth, her laughter, and the way she always made him feel safe.
For a moment, the room didn't feel so heavy. The memories wrapped around him like a soft blanket, and for that brief time, he could almost forget the fear that had been gnawing at him since Ora's words.
"Mother," he whispered, his voice shaking but full of longing. "I'm here."
Her eyelids fluttered faintly at his words, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of recognition. He stepped closer, his small fingers hesitating before brushing against hers. They were cool to the touch, but the connection reminded him of all the times she had held his hand, guiding him through the castle halls or comforting him after a bad dream.
Raizel closed his eyes, letting the memories fill the silence of the room. Even if she couldn't speak, even if she couldn't wake, her presence still felt like home.
With all her remaining strength, she sat up, wrapping her arms around him. Pressing her necklace into his hand, she whispered, "Watch over your brother." Forcing a final, fragile smile, she exhaled softly and leaned back into the bed.
Ora and a few maids stepped forward quietly, ready to escort her to the baths.
Eric placed a firm yet gentle hand on Raizel's head and said, "Come, young prince. Let's go."