When he was taken back to his private chamber, Jia followed in silence, her pulse steady, but her mind alert.
The room was spacious and looked no different from when she was brought in to strike that bargain with the prince. His servants quickly withdrew at the advisors command, leaving only the three of them - Jia, the unconscious prince, and the Imperial advisor as well.
His sharp eyes seemed to flicker behind those glasses, missing nothing in the room.
"Is Prince Lysander going to be alright? I don't have all day," he said at last, folding his arms across his chest. His tone was curt, and every word clipped with authority. "I need to report to His Majesty, so hurry up, will you?"
Jia resisted the urge to glare.
She didn't even know who the man was, but the weight of his presence alone warned her he was someone of influence - someone she couldn't afford to offend. So instead of responding and wasting her time, she focused on her work.
She rolled up her sleeves, keeping her movements precise and practiced. Her fingers brushed lightly against the prince's wrist, feeling for his pulse, and her brows furrowed at the result. She tilted his chin gently, examining the pallor of his lips, the shallow rhythm of his breathing.
Then, with a careful motion, she checked the back of his head where the blood had dried. She cleaned the wound with a cloth soaked in herbal tincture, careful with her movement. A dark bruise formed along his temple, and there was more dried blood near his ear.
"His brain is in shock," she murmured, half to herself, half to the man hovering nearby. "He must've fallen from the upper levels of the building. It's a miracle he's still breathing. That seems to be the only explanation I can give for now."
Her gaze trailed over his body, taking notes of his injury with careful precision. "There are multiple fractures, his left arm and two ribs at least. Possible internal bleeding, though not severe enough to be fatal yet. But the head injury…"
She hesitated, trying to maintain a steady voice as she examined the swelling behind his head. "The trauma might've caused a concussion or mild brain swelling. He's… unconscious, but not comatose. Still, we need to keep him under close observation. If he survives the next few days without complications. He'll live."
"But isn't that what we have you here for?" the Imperial advisor said, as though he was speaking common sense. "Your job is to keep him alive. He has to live."
And that was an order.
His aura was so suffocating that Jia had to stand up and open the window.
"The Prince needs air," she explained before he could ask, immediately returning to the prince's side.
The heavens help her.
As she continued to examine Lysander's body, her frown deepened as her eyes trailed down his arm.
There were faint abrasions on his palms, and the tip of his fingers were bruised. Even his nails, well-groomed, had traces of dried blood beneath them, as though he had tried to grab onto something during the fall. His once-fine hands now bore the desperate evidence of a struggle of life.
Worried, she pressed her palm to Lysander's chest, trying to gauge the warmth beneath his skin. It was cold, not with illness, but with a fatigue that felt unnatural.
His veins felt sluggish beneath her fingertips, his muscles soft from what seemed like long periods of suppression rather than neglect.
Everything felt wrong.
She couldn't pinpoint where the main problem was, but the pattern was too clear to ignore. His weakened state didn't feel natural to her - it felt induced, as though something had been quietly working through his body overtime, sapping his strength little by little.
It's not poison.
If she dared to guess, it was as if some substance had been administered regularly to keep him physically subdued. Maybe not by his physicians, but through someone else?
"His body is weak," she said carefully. "Really… weak."
The Imperial advisor adjusted his glasses. "The Prince has always been weak. But anyway, is that all?"
Jia managed a brief nod, masking the unease rising in her chest.
"Good," he said. "Then I shall report it to His Majesty, since it's nothing serious, apparently. However," his tone suddenly cooled, a faint edge of condescension slipping through. "I think you should learn to follow the rules of this palace, young healer."
Jia turned to him, rising to her feet.
"I beg your pardon?"
"That garden was recently restricted," he replied. "You found the prince and saved him, so I'll spare you the punishment. But be aware of palace rules, to avoid facing unexpected dangers, alright?"
He smiled curtly, glancing once more at the prince before leaving.
When the door closed shut, Jia exhaled quietly in his absence, her brows knitting together.
But hold on–!
Nothing serious? Really?
Something about that man bothered her greatly, and she couldn't understand why. The way he spoke to her concerning the prince,as if the prince's life meant nothing to him was seriously disturbing.
For someone serving directly under the Emperor, that level of disregard was… unbelievable.
Something was definitely fishy. But one thing was certain, he was ending up on her list of important people to avoid.
Refusing to stress her mind on the matter, she returned to the prince's side, sitting on the cold floor next to his bed. She let her fingers graze the edge of his blanket before resting her chin on her palm, lost in thought.
Did he really fall?
But how?
The theory made sense on the surface - his injuries aligned with a fall from a considerable height - but the more she thought about how it happened, the less it added up.
Prince Lysander didn't strike her as someone careless enough to slip from a corridor. She had seen him last night, and there was nothing reckless about him.
What changed between then and now?
Aside from his wounds, his body bore the faint signs of long-term weakness. This wasn't just from the fall… it went deeper… and she could hardly figure it out.
And then there was his household. His attendants were always nearby, loyal to a fault… or so it seemed. They rarely left his quarters, so how could no one have noticed he'd gone missing?
The thought unsettled her.
He must've been unconscious in that garden for some time before they found him. Hours, perhaps.
What kind of attendants allowed that to happen? Shouldn't they be punished? They were his attendants for a reason, no?
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Negligence was too soft a word for it. It almost felt… like he was left alone on purpose most of the time. If that was true, then someone within these walls probably wanted the prince gone - both royal princes at that.