In the evening, the garden inside Lysander's wing was a haven of quiet light and drifting fragrance. Lanterns hung from the low boughs of plum trees, their soft and golden glow gathering against the night. The faint hum of crickets mingled with the leaves, and the air was cold, carrying the faint sweetness of night-blooming jasmine.
Lysander sat on a wide cushioned swinging chair beneath the plum trees, reading the open book in his hand. The chair swayed in a slow rhythm, keeping time with the soft breeze that stirred petals at his feet. His dark hair fluttered with the wind, a few strands brushing against his cheek. His lashes lowered and lifted as he read, his eyes calm, distant and quietly absorbed in the page.
Then–
"Big brother!"
Ren's cheerful voice cut through the evening hush, scattering the stillness like ripples over calm water. Lysander looked up just in time to see a small figure darting down the garden path toward him, barefoot, breathless and full of life. The boy's loose nightwear fluttered around his ankles, the pale fabric catching the breeze as he ran, his dark hair streaming effortlessly behind him.
Lysander closed his book and set it aside, amusement softening the calm lines on his face. He opened his arms just as Ren reached him, easily catching the boy's small frame and settling him onto his lap.
"You're still awake?" he asked, gently brushing aside a stray lock of hair from Ren's forehead. "Mother won't be pleased about this if she finds out. Did you come alone? Where are your attendants?"
Ren only giggled, his dark eyes glimmering with mischief. "I snuck away to come see big brother," he confessed in a conspiratorial whisper, before shifting his eyes to the closed book beside Lysander. "Is big brother busy right now?"
"For you, I'm not," Lysander replied. "But tell me… what was so important that you couldn't wait until morning?"
But Ren's answer was not what he expected. The little boy reached up and patted Lysander's cheek in a gesture far too comforting for his age. "Big brother, don't be sad… But I didn't come here for you. I came to see Miss Healer!"
Lysander blinked, caught off-guard.
"Miss… Healer?"
Ren nodded eagerly, his small hands tightening on Lysander's robe as if afraid he might refuse. "Uh-huh! My royal weekly lessons have already resumed because Father made my teacher start early, and I haven't seen Miss Healer since she arrived! So I came here - so you can take me to her! She's staying in your wing, isn't she?"
"You know her?"
"Of course!" Ren replied at once, his face lighting up with pure delight. "She's my friend! I met her in the House Of Balance! Miss Healer saved Mr. Wiggles and gave him back to me! She was super kind to me as well! Like you and big brother Hugo!"
The excitement in his voice was so earnest that Lysander almost smiled. Almost.
Kind.
That word rarely applied to anyone sent by his father… or the ministers.
Every physician they'd assign to him over the years had worn the mask of gentle concern, their politeness rehearsed and flawless. But beneath it all, he'd learned to see the same things: greed, calculation, and quiet deceit. Some sought favors through flattery and made inappropriate advances his way. Others reported his every move back to the Emperor's council. Most were spies, carefully chosen to ensure he never strayed too far from their reach. Even now, he was being carefully monitored, and he could feel it.
Lysander had learned a long time ago that kindness came with a price. He couldn't afford to trust anyone. No one.
Especially a healer chosen by his father.
"Ren, it's late," he said finally, forcing his tone to remain gentle. "She must be fast asleep by now, do you really want to wake her up?"
Ren paused mid-fidget, his earlier excitement faltering. "Oh… I didn't think about that."
Seeing his little brother's crestfallen face tugged at something in Lysander's chest. He sighed softly and brushed a hand over Ren's hair. "How about this - after your lessons tomorrow, I'll take you to see her. You can talk to her as much as you like then. Doesn't that sound better?"
Ren's head snapped up, his eyes wide and bright again. "Really?"
He nodded once.
"Big brother is the best!" Ren chirped, throwing his arms around him.
Lysander chuckled faintly, standing and settling the boy against his shoulder. "But don't run off like this again. Your servants must have realized you're gone by now. I'll take you back, alright?"
Ren made a small, reluctant pout. "Okay… but you'll come tomorrow, and take me to see Miss Healer, right?"
"I will," Lysander promised, already exiting his wing and heading to Ren's place instead. His gaze grew distant and thoughtful on the way.
********
Meanwhile, Jia was sitting by the window in her room, an ink bottle beside her, and a quill in her hand. It was late into the night, and most of the palace had long gone quiet.
She should have been asleep – or at least buried in those insufferable medical reports the scholars had butchered. Yet the parchment gave her a different activity that kept her seriously busy.
On it, a rather questionable, almost cartoonish sketch of the Crown Prince was staring back at her. His hair was a little too perfect, his smile ridiculously heroic, and his eyes… too noble. But Jia frowned, tapping her quill against her chin.
"That's not him," she muttered, as if the fault lay with the paper. She added a few strokes to his jawline, as though that might somehow make a difference, but the prince refused to cooperate. She paused again, looking unconvinced.
It wasn't a portrait. It looked more like a caricature. In fact, it was glaringly obvious that it was one. But wait, why was she doing this again?
Right!
Beside the sketch, a half-written list stretched down the page, titled in bold, slightly crooked letters: "Important People To Remember"
She divided it into two tidy columns, "Potential Allies" and "People To Avoid (For the sake of My sanity)
For starters, the Crown Prince's name sat comfortably under potential allies, neatly circled once for emphasis.
He seemed decent enough - polite when he spoke, and far less terrifying than most high-ranking nobles she'd met so far. If she played her cards right, Jia thought, he might actually become someone she could rely on. And considering she had quite literally saved him not too long ago, that gave her at least a small but precious leverage… right?
At least, she hoped so.
Under the list of people to avoid, Jia's quill hesitated for a long moment before touching the parchment.
The second Prince.
His outline took shape quickly, but the longer she drew, the less human she pictured him to be. She gave him narrow predatory eyes, followed by fangs and two curved horns curling from his dark hair. By the time she set her quill down, the portrait looked less like a prince and more like a demon straight out of an old village tale.
Jia leaned back, lips pursed.
She wasn't sure why she felt the need to make him look terrifying, perhaps because that was exactly how he made her feel since this morning. They said he was the gentler of the two brothers, but she was beginning to question that entirely.
He was a suspicious man.
Still, why did he need a healer? Or more precisely, what made the Emperor decide he required one?
He didn't look sick. Of course, she knew better than anyone that illness could hide beneath the surface, that even the healthiest-looking people could be fighting something unseen… but something about Prince Lysander didn't add up.
Her gaze drifted back to the demonish sketch, and she shivered. If she was to report on the prince's health condition to the Emperor anytime soon, she'd have to- with the prince's permission, check on him. The Emperor might have given her the orders, but the prince's legal consent was still professionally required.
The mere thought of going to his quarters tomorrow to try again made her skin prickle with unease.
Jia rested her chin on her hand, completely lost in thoughts. The lantern's flame flickered gently, throwing soft shadows across the room. That's when she noticed it, the faint shift in the air, the prickling sense of being watched.
A shadow stretched across the floor near the window, giving her a fright.
Jia turned her head sharply, and she shot to her feet in alarm, the chair scraping across the floor. In a panic, she snatched the parchment and stuffed it behind her back. Her heart hammered as her eyes widened in recognition.
"Y– Your Highness."
Prince Lysander stood by the window, tall, silent and perfectly composed, the soft glow of moonlight tracing the sharp lines of his face. He hadn't announced his presence, nor did he seem the least bit apologetic for startling her.
For a moment, Jia couldn't breathe. He looked… unreal in that pale glow. And then, the image struck. She pictured the ridiculous horns and fangs she had just drawn on him, and immediately wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
Oh no.
But what in the heavens was he doing here?
Curse her luck!
Was he really a demon? She didn't even hear the sound of his footsteps coming her way.
"What," he asked slowly, his voice low and smooth, "are you hiding?"
Jia's grip on the parchment tightened.
"Anatomy," she blurted out.
There was a pause.
He blinked.
She blinked back, every muscle in her body frozen in mortified defiance.
She was in trouble now!