Chapter 10:
Mariela's smile lingered as she reached for a cloth to wipe her hands clean again. Prince Richard was still watching her, his shirt back on, though slightly crooked, as if he'd forgotten to fix it properly. The golden light between them softened the space, filling it with a quiet peace that neither dared to break.
That was, until the door opened with a sharp creak.
Gideon stepped in. "My lady are you…
His eyes scanned the room quickly. He froze at the sight before him—Mariela standing close to the prince, a salve jar open, cloths strewn across the table, and a noticeable air of something unspoken between them.
Mariela jumped.
"Oh! Gideon!" Her voice came out higher than intended. She quickly stepped back from the prince, nearly bumping into the tray behind her. "I—Everything's fine now, prince. You're good to go. You may, uh, return to your quarters."
Prince Richard blinked, then raised an amused brow. "Is that an official discharge from my attending healer?"
"Yes!" she said too quickly. Then softened. "Yes… Just don't forget to take the pain reliever I gave you. Twice a day, starting tonight Sir."
"I'll remember," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."
Mariela turned away before her face could betray her fluster. She tidied the table like it had suddenly offended her—stacking jars, wiping surfaces, organizing cloths that didn't really need organizing.
She turned back to Gideon. "So! You were looking for me, right? Let's go then. I'm done here. Long day. So much healing. Haha…"
She walked briskly past him and into the hallway, not waiting for a reply.
Gideon lingered at the door for a beat, eyes flicking from Mariela's retreating form to the prince, who was now casually fixing his collar.
Then he bowed as to say goodbye to the prince as he stepped out to follow Mariela.
In the corridor, he caught up easily. "So… what exactly was that my lady?"
Mariela kept walking. "That was a situation where no one noticed the prince was bleeding. Unacceptable, really."
"Right," Gideon said, clearly unconvinced.
They walked in silence for a few steps.
She glanced away, her cheeks still faintly pink.
He watched her a moment longer, then spoke more softly, "You looked happy."
Mariela didn't answer right away.
"Maybe," she finally said. "Maybe I was just… proud of myself."
He nodded once, not pushing further.
Together, they continued down the quiet corridor, the scent of herbs and candlewax following faintly behind them until their corridor.
In the King's Office
The golden sun dipped low beyond the tall windows of the royal study. Inside, warm lamplight glowed against the dark wood shelves and stone walls, casting long shadows across the floor.
King Richmond Gold sat behind his desk, fingers steepled, gaze calm but expectant.
A soft knock at the door signaled her arrival.
"Enter," he said.
Lady Tiana stepped in, every bit as composed as the room she entered. Dressed in her deep emerald physician robes, her silver brooch glinting, she bowed respectfully.
"Your Majesty," she greeted.
"Lady Tiana," he replied, gesturing to the seat before him. "Thank you for coming. I trust the physician's building is functioning smoothly?"
"It is, Sire," she said, taking her seat. "All supplies are accounted for, the staff is working diligently, and injuries from the returning troops have been treated or referred to the royal hospital. Nothing out of order to report."
He nodded once. "And the girl? Mariela Elise Marriott."
Tiana reply. "She is progressing well."
"Be honest," the king said, his tone light but firm. "You are not one to flatter."
Lady Tiana gave a small, respectful laugh. "Nor do I intend to start now my king."
She folded her hands in her lap. "At first, I assigned her menial tasks—organization, labeling, sorting by various categories. I could see she was irritated, frustrated even. Her knowledge was evident from the start, but it was scattered. She knew many things but lacked structure. The kind of foundation one needs if they are to lead in the future. If she were to become someone like me—or better."
The king's brow lifted slightly at that.
"I believe in discipline, in understanding every inch of the place you serve. She now knows where every herb belongs, how quickly it's used, which are needed most often, which fade faster, which grow more potent with time. And she learned it not by lecture, but through action."
He watched her carefully. "And she didn't rebel?"
"She nearly did," Tiana admitted, lips curling faintly. "But she stayed. And now, she learns more quickly than any I've seen. She asks questions. She tests things with care. She's already begun assisting in treatment—and when one of the guards returned with a severe wound, she acted immediately and with clarity. It's no longer a matter of what she knows, but how she applies it."
There was a pause.
The king's fingers tapped softly against the wood. "You believe she is rising to the expectations I set?"
"She's not just rising," Lady Tiana said. "She's climbing."
The king smiled faintly, the kind of expression he rarely wore in public.
"Very well," he said. "Continue to report to me. I want to hear of her progress directly from you. No summaries. No filtered notes."
"Of course, Sire."
He stood, a clear signal that the meeting was done. "She will become the kind of physician the royal court has not seen in generations, if she keeps this pace."
Lady Tiana stood as well, bowing again. "She will, Your Majesty. I will see to it."
As she exited, the king turned toward the darkening window, a thoughtful look on his face.
Lady Tiana stepped out of the grand doors of the King's study, her expression unreadable as always. Just as she adjusted her robes and turned down the corridor, a pair of royal guards stepped aside to allow Prince Richard to pass.
Their eyes met briefly.
She dipped into a respectful bow. "Your Highness."
He returned a courteous nod. "Lady Tiana."
No further words were exchanged. Their roles did not require friendship.
As she disappeared around the corner, Richard took a deep breath, then stepped through the heavy doors.
Ah— son," King Richmond said warmly, rising slightly from his chair. "I was waiting for you."
Richard bowed his head. "My King."
"I heard what happened to the western land. The unrest, the border tensions," the King said, concern flashing behind his composed gaze. "I trust everything has been handled?"
Richard stepped forward with steady composure. "Everything is as you wished, my King. We calmed the situation without further bloodshed. The villages are secure again, and the reports from our scouts confirm stability."
A proud smile tugged at the king's lips. "I knew I could count on you. Thank you, my son."
Richard gave a brief, respectful nod. "Always, Father."
The King leaned back in his chair, folding his hands thoughtfully. "Now… the next issue. What of the low quarter in the eastern side of the capital? The one near the old herbalist district—dark alleyways, abandoned shops. The corner where that healing herb shop once stood. Is anything happening there?"
Richard's expression tightened slightly. "Still struggling, Sire. I've sent aides before, but it's difficult to maintain order without someone constant in the area. Thieves come and go. People survive off scraps."
The King exhaled through his nose.
"I considered going myself—but that would cause a stir. I want someone I trust to handle it. Someone discreet, but sharp. We must help them—not just enforce order, but build something. I'll find the right person," Richard said, though there was a glimmer of something in his eyes—as if he was already thinking of someone.
"Good," the King said. Then his tone shifted—lighter, curious. "On another note… I heard Mariela is holding herself quite well these days."
Richard blinked once, caught slightly off guard. "Yes," he said. "I saw it myself. She's swift, focused… and strangely calm under pressure. She even lectured me about tending to my own wound before she allowed me to leave."
The King chuckled. "Is that so?
"Impressive," the King said, folding his hands behind his back as he walked slowly toward the window. "That explains why her adoptive father once spoke to me about her parents. Her real ones."
Richard blinked again. "Her… real parents?"
The King turned, eyes thoughtful. "You didn't know?"
Richard shook his head, stunned. "I thought she was raised by the noble household of Marriot. Simple, private people… but never imagined—"
"She was orphaned as a child. Her biological parents were physicians. Village healers from that very district we're discussing. Her adoptive father told me they died during a fever outbreak years ago. He took her in and raised her quietly."
The silence stretched between them.
"No wonder," Richard finally said, his voice softer. "No wonder she's so natural with the wounded. It's in her bones."
The King gave a small nod. "It is a rare thing, to have such skill passed not just through training, but through memory. Through blood."
Then, his voice turned more serious again. "Watch over her.
Richard bowed his head once more. "Yes, Father."
Back to the prince's office
Prince Richard entered with a thoughtful expression, his cloak slung loosely over one shoulder.
Lavish stood at attention, but tilted his head slightly, sensing the prince's mood.
"My prince," he greeted. "You're back earlier than expected."
Richard nodded absently and lowered himself into his chair.
"The King and I spoke about the southern village—everything's settled. But there's something else he brought up. Do you remember that herb shop near the eastern wall? The old one tucked behind the grain markets?"
Lavish straightened. "The one surrounded by alleyways? Yes. I've heard it's still active, though not exactly… regulated."
Richard leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"That's what concerns me. It's a forgotten corner of the city. People go there for medicine, but it's also a hub for things we'd rather not see grow—illegal treatments, untrained hands, even smuggling routes."
"The king wants someone to investigate quietly. Someone the locals won't recognize."
Lavish's eyes narrowed slightly. "Not someone in uniform, then. And not from the inner city."
Richard nodded.
"I want to send Gideon. He's perfect. He doesn't draw attention, and he knows how to ask the right questions without raising an alarm."
Also, he continues,
"He's not part of the official guard. I'd rather he hear it from me directly."
Lavish raised a brow, cautious. "And if things go wrong?"
The prince smiled faintly. "Then Gideon will know how to get out of it."
Lavish gave a short, respectful nod. "I'll see that he's briefed."
"No," Richard said, cutting in gently but firmly. "I'll speak to him myself."
Lavish blinked. "As you wish, sire."
Lavish hesitated for a second, then said, "Will the prince be requesting a report, or…?"
"Let's keep it quiet for now. No written reports. Just word of mouth. I want to know what's truly going on there, not just what people think I want to hear."
Lavish gave a short nod. "Understood."
Richard finally turned toward his desk, fiddling absently with a sealed scroll, then looked over his shoulder.
"Lavish," he said casually, almost offhand, "what would you say makes a good gift… for a girl?"
Lavish blinked. "A girl… generally speaking?"
"Yes," Richard replied, too quickly. "Generally. Something that wouldn't be too much, but thoughtful. Something useful. Not flashy. But still… nice."
Lavish held back a smile with effort. "Depends on the girl, I suppose."
"Let's say she's smart. Nice. Practical. Has no time for jewelry. Spends most of her days surrounded by books, and loves nature. What then?"
Lavish raised an eyebrow slightly but answered with grace.
"Then I would recommend something that supports her work. Or perhaps something that reminds her she's seen. Valued."
Richard's expression softened, his eyes thoughtful.
"I see. That's… good. Thank you."
Lavish inclined his head slightly. "Shall I have something arranged?"
"No," Richard replied quickly. "Not yet. I'll handle this one myself."
And with that, the prince stepped away from his desk, his stride steady, but his mind clearly already elsewhere.