It was upon the morning of the eighth day, just after Lord Jeremy had taken his leave of the palace, that Leesa stirred. Her brow was damp with cold sweat, her breath ragged as though she had just emerged from battle. Her eyes, once shut-in stillness, now flew open wide with a haunted gleam. She had seen it again, that moment. The soundless echo of her lover's final breath. The grief, sharp as steel. The memory, once lost to the veils of trauma, had surged forth like a flood, dragging her into the abyss from which she had so long remained hidden.
She had forgotten indeed, she had buried the truth deep within her soul, confused and broken after the blows she had suffered to her body and spirit. But now it returned to her with violent clarity. The pain. The loss. The unbearable truth of a heart once halved by death.
She lay still for a moment longer, her breathing uneven, her mind racing to grasp where she was and what had transpired during her long slumber. The bed was soft, the air carried the faint scent of chamomile and rosewater. This was no battlefield nor prison ship. At her side, as constant as the stars, sat Weinne, her ever-loyal companion, who had not once departed the room. The young lady-in-waiting trembled with disbelief and relief, her hands clutched to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.
"You have awakened… at last, my lady," Weinne whispered, voice breaking as she fell to her knees beside the bed, clutching the hand of her mistress. "Thank the heavens above."
Leesa blinked, her lips parting to speak. Her voice was hoarse from disuse, but the words came forth, uncertain and wary. "What… has happened? Where am I?"
Weinne wiped her tears hastily and took a cloth dampened in warm water, gently pressing it to Leesa's brow and neck as though she were afraid that her mistress might fade once more if not cared for with utmost tenderness.
"You are in the Berly Palace, my lady. The crown prince… he was found. You saved him. You nearly perished. We thought..." Her voice faltered again, and she busied herself with tending to Leesa's arms. "It has been over a week. You have not stirred. The entire palace feared the worst."
The maidservants, summoned at Weinne's soft call, entered with hushed steps, their heads bowed. They were sent at once to prepare a light broth that was fit for a body that was long weakened.
"The House of Palpatine has been declared traitorous by edict of the Crown," Weinne recounted in a hushed tone, as though the very walls might listen. "Their crimes are most grievous, the abduction of His Highness, the Crown Prince. Execution followed soon after the judgment was passed. Though it is whispered that Dale Palpatine perished within the prison walls… There are those who claim he was not merely left to rot, but rather tortured to death. Of course, none believed it. There was no stir near the dungeons, not even a flicker of torchlight beyond the usual guard."
Leesa's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What are you speaking of… I..."
"Shh," Weinne gently pressed a finger to her lips. "That, my lady, is a secret. One His Highness asked me to carry to the grave. You were the last soul to speak with Dale Palpatine before his end. His Highness ensured that no one else knew, and bid me say nothing of it. And truly, why would I ever speak a word that might bring harm upon you?"
A flicker of warmth lit Leesa's eyes, and her lips curved not for honeyed wine or pastries this time but for Weinne herself, ever her quiet shadow, her loyal blade in soft hands. "Indeed. You would not. I trust you, Weinne… though you must forgive His Highness. He knows little of whom to place faith in."
Weinne chuckled, brushing a curl behind her ear. "Not that I would ever cross him, of course."
"Now tell me, when did His Highness awaken? Was he gravely wounded?"
"Ah, no, not gravely," Weinne answered with eagerness. "The royal physician said his injuries were minor, mostly bruises and exhaustion. He stirred the very next day after returning to the palace. But oh, you must know this, he has been at your side nearly every day since. Sometimes he even brings his ledgers and court documents, sitting beside you in silence, stealing glances between signatures."
Leesa's brow lifted in disbelief. "Why?"
Weinne gave a theatrical shrug, lips twitching. "Perhaps you've charmed him senseless, my lady," she teased, earning a long, flat stare from Leesa.
"All right, all right," she relented. "If I must be serious… I suspect he bears the weight of guilt. That you suffered grievously to save him, and now he lives in comfort while you lay silent. Perhaps it haunts him." Leesa said nothing. Weinne continued, her tone growing more animated.
"The Duke, the Duchess, and Lord Bryant came rushing upon hearing of your collapse. They sought to return you to the Dukedom at once. But His Highness denied them, saying you were in his service and under his care, and that you would return to the Duchy only when you awoke and expressed such a desire."
At this, Leesa blinked. "He said that?"
"He did. The duke, as you might imagine, was furious and demanded an audience with the emperor. I know not what words passed between them, but I did glimpse the Duchess laughing behind her fan when His Highness spoke." Weinne giggled now, unable to contain herself. "And poor Lord Bryant, he stood there stiff as a post, not knowing whether to be offended or amused. I had to gently guide him to follow the duke. In any case, they now reside in the Jade Palace, here within the imperial grounds."
By the time Weinne finished her rather spirited account, the chambermaids had entered with a silver tray bearing a bowl of steaming soup. They bowed deeply and withdrew in silence. Leesa, though her limbs were still heavy and her hands unsteady, made an effort to lift the spoon to her lips. A few drops spilled upon her robe, but she did not mind. The warmth settled her stomach, and with each sip, she felt the fog in her mind lift a little more.
"You've done well, Weinne," she murmured.
"Always, my lady," Weinne replied softly. "Here, let me assist you."
Once the soup was finished, Weinne helped her mistress into clean bedclothes and drew fresh sheets over her. Just then, a knock echoed through the chamber door.
"The Crown Prince," a steward's voice announced.
Weinne turned, gave Leesa a knowing smirk, and bowed. "I shall leave you, my lady. I imagine you have matters to discuss." With that, she slipped quietly from the room, though anyone watching closely might have seen the small, excited dance in her step.