Weeks had passed since the attempt on Charlotte's life. Though the poison no longer ravaged her blood, its aftermath lingered like a curse. Her vitality drained by the day, and even the simplest tasks left her breathless. Gossip swirled through the palace halls—hushed talk of her weakening state, of the possibility she might never recover.
But one person refused to give up.
Amelia—Charlotte's newly discovered sister—believed a cure could be found. Raised far from the palace, deep in a remote village, Amelia had been trained by a wise old healer—one whose knowledge reached back generations. She had become a remarkable physician, skilled in ailments others deemed untreatable. And now, she stood in Charlotte's royal chambers, clutching a cloth-wrapped bundle of potent herbs, their sharp aroma curling through the air like a whispered promise.
Charlotte lay nestled against embroidered pillows, her pale face framed by loose curls, her sharp wit dulled by sheer exhaustion.
The door opened. Amelia entered without ceremony.
"I found something," she said quietly, placing the herbs on the bedside table.
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, her voice hoarse but dry with humor. "And what, pray tell, is this miracle you've brought me? A potion to make me immortal?"
Amelia allowed herself a faint smile. "Not magic. But something close. A cure—taught to me by a healer who understood what others never could. It may restore what the poison stole."
Charlotte studied her. Amelia's eyes held none of the court's sly calculation—only calm, focused resolve. She had never played the royal games, never bowed to the pressures of lineage or crown. And yet, she stood before Charlotte now, bearing something more precious than any title: hope.
"You truly think it will work?" Charlotte whispered. "I believe in you. But the king will never allow it."
"He doesn't have to," Amelia said evenly. "I've studied these herbs for years. The remedy is sound. It's not palace-trained medicine—it's village-born, tested, and real."
Charlotte gave a faint laugh. "I've already been poisoned and nearly died. What's one more gamble?"
Amelia stepped closer, kneeling beside the bed. "Then trust me. Just this once."
Before Charlotte could answer, the heavy door creaked open again. The King entered. His presence was imposing as always, but the worry in his eyes gave him away.
He looked from Charlotte to Amelia. "What is this?" he asked warily. "Why are you here?"
"I've found a treatment," Amelia said, her tone clear. "Something passed down by a healer from my village. It might heal her."
The King's face tightened. "You would use that in the royal chambers? You've been absent from this court for a lifetime. We cannot afford folk remedies built on superstition."
Charlotte stirred, voice sharp despite her weakness. "Father, I adore your lectures, truly, but unless you've become an expert on poisons, I suggest we try something—anything—that isn't failing."
"You think this is a joke, Charlotte?" the King snapped. "That your life is a stage for defiance?"
"No," she replied coolly. "But I do think that if I die in this bed while we do nothing, the joke will be on you."
The King's expression cracked. He turned back to Amelia, as if seeing her for the first time—not a hidden daughter, not a reminder of the past—but someone standing in defiance of death itself.
"You've always been an enigma," he murmured. "But you've surprised me."
"I'm not asking for your blessing," Amelia said. "I'm asking for my sister's life."
A long silence followed. Then finally, a sigh.
"Very well," the King said. "But if she worsens—"
"I'll take responsibility," Charlotte cut in with a weak smile. "We both know you never let me get away with anything."
Without another word, Amelia began to prepare the mixture, her fingers steady and practiced. The room filled with the smell of earth, spice, and something ancient.
Charlotte sipped the brew. The warmth surged through her like fire in cold veins.
For the first time in weeks, she felt it—not relief, not recovery, but the first glimmer of something far rarer:
Hope.
There was a long road ahead. Her health would remain fragile, and the kingdom was far from peace. But Charlotte was no stranger to impossible odds. And now, by her side stood a sister—new, unexpected, and wholly unwavering.
As she leaned back and closed her eyes, Charlotte whispered to herself,"A sister and a second chance… That's not so bad, is it?"