The carriage rattled through the storm, its velvet curtains heavy with damp. She burned in his arms—a feverish weight, her breath shallow as a wounded doe's. He held her tighter with each jolt of the wheels, fingers pressing into the embroidered quilt as if to imprint himself into its threads. One slip, and she might vanish again.
"Back to the palace. Seal the gates. No visitors." The prince's order was gritted teeth and fraying silk.
Rain slashed diagonals across the night, soaking his cloak, clinging to his lashes like unshed tears.
The Sickroom's Hush
They hid her in the innermost chamber of his quarters, where even moonlight dared not pry. Three physicians came, three physicians bowed. "The lady has taken chill and lost blood. A month's quiet healing—no disturbances."
He sat vigil by the bed, counting each labored breath until dawn bleached the windows.
Never had he known such dread. This woman—who once met his fury with colder steel, who carved her defiance into every glance—now lay frail as rice paper, letting him wipe her brow, coax bitter medicine between her lips. A stranger in her own skin.
The Third Night's Awakening
Her eyelids fluttered.
"...You...?"
The spoon trembled in his grasp.
"Yes." His voice was a rock in a torrent. "You're back."
Her gaze drifted over the room, over him, settling into weary recognition.
"Why..." A whisper, blunt as a blade's edge. "...won't you let me go?"
Silence pooled between them. Then—
"I thought you were dead."
The words tore loose like a suture splitting. "Those days—I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Only dreamed you bleeding out in the dirt."
She froze. Never had this proud prince spoken in such shattered syllables.
"Hate me. Curse me. Strike me." His forehead pressed to her icy knuckles. "But don't leave."
Salt seeped into her palm.
She didn't speak, but her fingers twitched—a moth's struggle against the cocoon.
He felt it. Drew back. "Rest. No one will harm you now." A pause. "Not even me."
The curtain fell behind him as he left. Moonlight rushed in, silvering the unshed tears in her eyes.
Outside, bamboo groaned in the wind.
The storm, true and terrible, had only just begun.
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