"There you go."
Jia crouched beside a tree in the estate's garden, her fingers gently cupped around the tiny millipede. Its glossy black body rippled like a moving ribbon, with dozens of delicate legs working in perfect rhythm as it crawled over her palm.
She leaned closer to the bark, intending to release it somewhere safe among the moss and roots. But just as she extended her hand, a light tug at the hem of her dress made her freeze.
Startled, she turned… and blinked.
A small boy stood beside her, no taller than her waist. He couldn't have been older than five, with round cheeks, wide brown eyes, and an expression caught between worry and hope.
His silk tunic was clearly made for a noble's child, with embroidered patterns, soft fabric, and an ornate sash tied clumsily at his waist. His hair was ruffled, as if he'd run a long way, and his shoes were dusty, with one lace untied, giving her the impression that he'd been sneaking around places he shouldn't.
But… Where did he come from?
"How can I help you?"
Jia tilted her head, still half crouched.
The boy pointed at her hand with all the solemnity in the world. "Can I have Mr. Wiggles back, please?" he asked earnestly. "I lost him in the hall. Don't throw him away. Mr. Wiggles doesn't like being alone."
Jia blinked, momentarily speechless.
She glanced down at the millipede, which had curled slightly as if shy under the attention, then back at the boy.
Oh. So that's how the little thing ended up by the pillar earlier.
"Mr. Wiggles, huh?" She murmured.
It figured. The little creature hadn't wandered in on its own, its tiny master had misplaced it. And judging by the boy's tone, this wasn't just some random insect to him; this was a beloved companion. Jia was lucky she found it before it got devastatingly flattened by a noble's boot.
But a Noble's son keeping a millipede? Weird, but adorably so.
"Of course."
Jia smiled faintly as she crouched to his level. The boy cupped his small palms, waiting patiently. When she placed the millipede carefully into his hand, it curled contentedly, and his whole face lit up, a dimple flashing as he smiled.
"Thank you, Miss!" the boy chirped, cradling his friend. "Mr. Wiggles likes to play hide and seek, but… he doesn't realize we can't play hide and seek in a place like this."
"Oh?"
His eyes drifted to her satchel, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Are you the healer they called to check on the Crown Prince?"
"Me?"
Jia realized he picked up on her profession. She shook her head lightly. "No… I serve someone else. You mean His Highness hasn't received treatment?"
"There's news he caught a fever," he whispered innocently, leaning closer as if sharing the latest gossip, his eyes wide and guileless. "They wouldn't let me see him either. They told me to go play outside so I came to find Mr. Wiggles instead."
Jia frowned slightly, her fingers tightening around the straps of her satchel. It made sense now why he was shooed away. If he spoke this freely to a stranger, the poor boy had no notion of what should be kept quiet. Still, the words fever and untreated lingered in her mind.
He's the future Crown Prince of the Empire, how can he still be left untreated? The little one must be mistaken, surely.
Her healer's instinct had warred with common sense. To step into the matter of royal blood was to court disaster. If she made one wrong touch, one slight mistake, then her head would roll before the court even asked her name. Even if she succeeded, treating the prince without sanction could still be seen as overstepping.
An act punishable by death itself.
She shook her head absently.
No.
She couldn't risk her life like that. She was all her grandpa had left in this world. Besides, she was only eighteen.
"Uhm… young lord," Jia looked at the boy again. "A royal physician should be tending to him, so you don't have to worry about the Crown Prince's health, alright?"
That sounded about right. After all, why would the heir to the Empire travel without his personal physician? That would be reckless – even by royal standards.
The boy nodded thoughtfully, his small fingers absently stroking the curled millipede in his palm. He glanced around the garden, then, with a hopeful look, he asked, "Can I stay with you then? Until my brother comes to take me?"
Jia arched her brow.
"Ever heard of stranger danger?"
The boy blinked, puzzled for half a second, before breaking into a bright smile.
"But you're not a stranger anymore! Look, Mr. Wiggles likes you too, and I know you're a good person!" He puffed up proudly, as if that settled it. "My name is Ren! Nice to meet you!"
"You can just call me a healer," Jia replied.
Ren nodded seriously, as though they'd just made a formal pact.
"Can I stay with you now, Miss Healer?"
Jia went quiet at his insistence.
She wasn't exactly sure how she felt about keeping a noble's child in her care. She'd never been particularly fond of clingy children – and this one, though polite, seemed determined to stay glued to her side. She supposed there was worse company than a well-mannered young lord and his… pet millipede.
What could go wrong?
"Alright then," she said at last with a resigned sigh. "But let's get you cleaned up before your brother comes looking for you."
"Okay!"
To Jia's surprise, the boy placed his millipede onto his shoulder, as if entrusting a knight to its post. Then he slipped his small hand into hers. She stiffened at the sudden touch, uncertain what to do with the tiny, trusting weight clinging to her fingers.
She really wasn't built for this sort of thing.
As they began walking out of the garden, a new thought occurred to her, and her lips tightened slightly.
She didn't even know who his brother was. Or where to find him.
That could be… a problem.
***********
In one of the grand chambers, the air had grown thick and pensive as physicians worked frantically to save the motionless figure on the bed.
Candlelight flickered over polished marbles and gold-lined walls, its warm glow settling on the young man lying unconscious at the center of it all.
Even in his pallor, the Crown Prince retained a terrible kind of beauty. His features were too perfectly sculpted to belong to any ordinary man – strong jaw, long lashes shadowing closed eyes, and a lock of hair clinging damply to his brows. He possessed a quiet grace that refused to fade even as life drained from his lips. The stillness of him unsettled everyone in the room, as though royalty itself had taken a dreadful pause.
Vials and bowls clinked softly on a nearby table as physicians continued to work. The sharp scent of herbs and iron drifted under the sweeter perfume of beeswax.
Four ministers hovered nearby, their voices hushed with fear and urgency. And standing apart from them, near a shadowed pillar in the chamber, was the younger brother, the second Prince.
The second Prince was not his brother's equal in strength or stature. There was something finer, more subtly robust in his build. His face, framed by dark hair, carried the kind of beauty one might have mistaken for gentleness – if not for the chill in his eyes. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable, save for the glint of cold calculation in his eyes.
"It must be an occurring fever, Your Highness," one physician said at last, his voice tight with frustration as he turned toward the younger prince, his gaze low. "The symptoms match. We have tried the usual tonics and purgatives. I don't know why he's not improving – We've used every known remedy in similarities with the symptoms but—"
"But you're saying I can have all your heads if my brother doesn't make it?"
The physician blanched at the silent threat in his voice. "Y– Your Highness?"
"Fools," the prince murmured, and though his words were soft, it carried like a blade across the chamber.
Ignoring the physician, he faced the ministers. "Report."
The oldest of them, Minister Alden, folded his hands behind his back. His voice was steady as he spoke, but his pride never wavered.
"Your Highness, His Imperial Majesty must be informed at once. A royal messenger should depart to the capital immediately."
Another minister named Minister Graves, younger and sharp-tongued, scoffed.
"And what would that accomplish? By the time a message reaches the Emperor, the Crown Prince could already be far gone. We've called every renowned physician in the province, yet none can explain this strange affliction."
"Then what do you propose we do?" Minister Rowan asked, his calm demeanor barely masking his worry. "We cannot simply stand here watching him fade like this."
A pause stretched. The Crown Prince collapsing during the main banquet made no sense at all, and even worse, no one knew the kind of illness he had. Perhaps it was why the physicians were struggling to find the appropriate remedy.
The silence pressed on until the youngest, Minister Ellis, shifted nervously and said above a whisper:
"I… heard a rumor," he cleared his throat. "One of the courtesans brought a healer from the village. A young woman skilled in herbal medicine. Perhaps she could be–"
"A healer?"
Minister Alden cut in, his tone dripping with disdain. "You mean a village healer? You would trust the Empire's heir to some unlettered peasant girl who only knows how to brew fever tonics for farmers and what not? Incredulous, Minister Ellis! I'm shocked you could even consider something like that."
"It was simply a suggestion, and I don't see anything wrong with it," Minister Graves muttered. "Much better to get us a peasant with results than nobles who constantly fail to do their job."
"Watch your tongue!"
"Enough now," Minister Rowan stepped in, his patience already thinning. "I believe we're all aware of the risk. But if every learned physician has failed to discover the prince's ailment, perhaps… It is time to consider the unconventional."
"Unconventional?" Alden sneered at the word. "You mean desperate."
"Desperation," Ellis said quietly, lowering his gaze before the prince. "may be all that stands between us and an empty throne."
The room fell into yet another silence.
The second prince's eyes drifted toward his brother's still form. When he finally spoke, his tone was low but decisive.
"Get me the courtesan."