Morning came sooner than Jia had hoped for.
The pale light slipped through the lattice window, brushing softly against her face and pulling her from a half-dream she wished she could stay in. Getting ready to treat someone had always been something she looked forward to, but now, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she should risk it by going over to Prince Lysander's quarters again.
But was it worth going there?
She was still busy rubbing the sleep from her eyes when a light knock sounded at the door, polite but insistent. When she slid it open, a young man stood there, balancing a tray with the sort of care one might reserve for something precious.
The aroma of freshly steamed buns and jasmine tea hit her nostrils.
"Morning!" he greeted, all cheers and sunshine. "Hope I didn't wake you– though I suppose that ship's sailed, hasn't it?"
Jia blinked, half-certain she was still dreaming. She glanced behind her for further clarification, then back at him.
The scholar seemed to notice her confusion, and he let out a quiet laugh. "Ah, no, you're not seeing things. I should've announced myself sooner but - Harry's the name." He tilted his head with a crooked grin, his accent rolling smoothly off his tongue, foreign yet oddly charming. "I… uh… saw what those jobless bullies did to your room yesterday. Thought I'd bring you breakfast. Consider it as an apology meal… on their behalf, of course, not mine. I've got better manners than that."
He flashed a disarming smile.
Aside from the way he spoke, there was something irresistibly sincere about him. His features were clean and well-proportioned. They looked soft around the edges, but with a spark of wit in his eyes that suggested both intelligence and mischief, lending him a sort of understated charm that felt entirely his own.
His dark blonde hair was slightly tousled, falling in gentle waves that framed his face, ink smudged on one thumb, enough proof that he spent much as much time with books as he did with his peers. But despite the casualness he carried, something about him told Jia he had an easy humor and kindness that could make him impossible not to like.
Red flag.
She replied simply, "I don't need your breakfast. But thank you for the gesture."
Harry blinked, momentarily thrown off by the refusal. She wasn't cold, but her disinterest was clear.
"Are you sure?" he said quickly before she could slide the door shut. "Because this is the only meal left, by the way. I brought it since I knew they wouldn't keep any for you. And - well, forgive me for saying – but you look like you could use a proper meal."
Jia paused. Hearing that there was nothing left, her gaze dropped to the tray.
The aroma drifted faintly between them, and he wasn't exactly wrong.
The entire week had been nothing but miserable, but she never dwelled on it to save herself from the mental stress. She'd barely eaten a proper meal since she got here, but the chief physician kept making her work even during her free time.
The servants assigned to their quarters always brought just enough to feed everyone, and someone always made sure her share went missing. Every single time. It felt really strange to be treated in this manner. Still, she hesitated.
Was it okay to just accept the meal brought by a complete stranger? What if he was one of them too?
But she was starving.
Perhaps she could accept the tray and call it a day? That didn't seem unreasonable… right?
"Since you're insisting," she said at last, accepting the tray. "I owe you nothing for this gesture, just to be clear."
Harry's grin returned, easy and unbothered. "Oh, don't get me wrong," he said lightly, shaking his head. "I've no such intention, Miss Jia. Frankly, I was just impressed by how much you knew about mercury poisoning. Not exactly the sort of thing most people discuss over tea, you know. After the incident with the Crown Prince, do you know the majority of the scholars are just hearing about mercury poisoning?"
Jia only stared at him.
He cleared his throat and went on, but his tone turned a shade more earnest. "If you don't mind, I'd really love to rub minds with you, like study time, sometimes. It's nothing formal, really, just the two of us sharing what we know during our free time. You teach me a thing or two, I teach you a thing or two. Everyone wins, no one loses. What do you say?"
He was persistent, to a point, but he didn't strike her as someone deceitful just yet. His bright eyes were filled with nothing but curiosity and pure determination.
Jia looked down at the tray in her hands. Well, sharing wouldn't hurt anyone. And he could bring her food like this everyday too.
A few conversations she can tolerate.
"Wait here," she said curtly.
Before Harry could respond, she closed the door.
A few minutes later, the two of them were in the garden, wandering between rows of herbs glistening under the morning sun.
Harry crouched beside a patch of silvery-green leaves, plucking one between his fingers. "Ah, now here's something interesting," he said, his accent rolling off smoothly, like he was about to tell a secret. "Do you know what this beauty is?"
Jia glanced over, unimpressed. "Aconitum napellus. Monkshood. Extremely poisonous."
He smirked, twirling the leaf. "Poisonous, yes… but it's also used to treat neuralgia and heart palpitations. Small doses, carefully measured at best."
"And how many carefully measured corpses have you seen as a result of that theory?"
Henry laughed at her retort, already rising to his full height. "Oh, come on now, I said small doses. You're making me sound reckless. I'm not, actually."
"I'm not making you anything," Jia replied, kneeling to inspect a neighbouring plant. "I'm merely pointing out that playing with aconite is like dancing on a blade. You are right about its use, only if handled by a seasoned professional healer."
She plucked a sprig of rosemary and held it up. "Here. Maybe study this instead?"
"I'm waiting for our next lesson," he replied, accepting the rosemary. "The chief physician usually gives us a particular herb to study, and after a week we're meant to present our findings to everyone. A bit of a dreadful ritual, really. But it'll be your first time, won't it? Feeling nervous about what he might give you, or are you planning to show us all up straight away?"
As Jia bent once more to snip a few leaves of basil, barely paying attention to Harry at this point, a flicker of pale movement between the hedges caught her eye. At first, she thought it was a stray cloth or perhaps the edge of someone's robe. But then she saw it clearly…
The limp outline of a hand half-buried in the grass.
"Wait."
Harry, who had been halfway through another question, froze at the sudden change in her tone.
"Hm? What is it?"
But Jia didn't answer.
She moved quickly, brushing past the low shrubs until the rest of the figure came into view - a man lying motionless beneath the shade of a willow tree. His long hair, black as ink, spilled over his shoulder and across the ground, glinting faintly in the sunlight like a dark river.
"Heavens," Jia whispered, kneeling beside him. Her eyes swept over the robe, taking in the familiar fine silk, embroidered with silver threads and a familiar insignia.
Harry was at her side in an instant. "Who–"
He stopped short as Jia turned the man's face slightly toward the light.
"Prince Lysander?!"
"Bloody hell," Harry couldn't help but curse, his expression mirroring the shocked look on Jia's face.
Jia glanced down at her hands to see her palms were slick and red. Blood matted his hair at the back, indicating he had sustained a head injury.
A thin line of blood traced down from the corner of Lysander's mouth, dry against his skin. Jia's heart thudded in her chest. She pressed two fingers to his neck.
There was a pulse, luckily. It was faint, but it meant he was still alive.
"Why is he here?"
"You're asking me?!" Jia shot him a look. "Help me roll him further, but don't touch the back of his head."
Together, they turned him just enough to ease his breathing. His long hair spread like a dark fan across the grass, streaked with blood and dew.
"Get water, and find someone from the inner quarters," she instructed. "His attendants, or guards, anyone you know. But do it quietly, please. If words spread too soon, this will cause chaos."
"On it."
As Harry sprinted towards the garden gate, Jia tore a strip from her sleeve and dabbed gently at the blood Lysander's face, her heart steady, but her pulse raced.
She pressed her palm lightly to his chest, his breathing shallow and strained.
How did this even happen?! She literally saw him last night!
Jia racked her brain for what she could do when suddenly, Lysander's hand lifted weakly. He grasped the edges of her sleeve before finding her wrist with purpose, his grip feeble but deliberate. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, silver, pale and unfocused. It caught the light like frost.
"Your Highness," Jia whispered urgently. "Don't move. Please, conserve your strength. I've sent for help."
But his gaze, hazy, found hers with a startling clarity for a brief second. He tried to speak, but the first sound that came out was a strangled breath. Blood touched his lips again.
"Your Highness?!"
His grip on her wrist tightened.
"Don't… let them… touch me…"
The words scraped through his throat, each one carrying raw fear, and a chilling warning.
Wait… what did he mean by that?
Who was he referring to?
But then his fingers went slack, falling from her wrist. His head tilted slightly to the side as his body helplessly gave in, the faint tremor in his chest stilling to shallow, fragile breaths.
"Your Highness!" Jia shook him lightly, but his eyes had already fluttered shut again, his long lashes brushing against pale skin.