CHAPTER EIGHT — The Cold Prince's Weak Spot
Helena didn't know how she was still standing.
After becoming Prince Kira's private maid, her life had turned into a storm of endless work. She woke before dawn, slept long after midnight, and spent every hour in between running up and down the palace like her life depended on it.
"Clean this." "Fix that." "Move faster." "You call this neat?"
Kira's voice followed her everywhere.
By the third day, Helena's legs trembled constantly.
By the fifth, her breath came in shallow gasps.
And by the seventh…
Her body finally gave up.
During her morning tasks, the floor swayed under her feet. She reached for the wall, missed it completely, and collapsed—hard.
The palace corridor spun as she tried to get up, but her arms felt too heavy. A wave of heat flushed through her body, then chills crawled down her back.
Her vision blurred.
I… I can't faint here…
But her body didn't care.
Her eyes fluttered shut just as footsteps approached.
Kira turned the corner sharply, ready to snap at whichever servant was delaying his meeting—
—and then he froze.
Helena lay motionless on the polished floor, her skin pale, her breaths uneven.
Kira's heart kicked so hard against his ribs he actually staggered a step.
"What… happened?" he muttered, kneeling beside her before he even realized what he was doing.
He touched her forehead.
Burning.
Kira jerked his hand back like the heat shocked him.
"She's sick," he whispered.
It came out too soft. Too human.
"call the royal physician", he murmured
A guard nearby blinked in disbelief.
"Your Highness… she's just a maid. We can call someone later—"
Kira's head snapped up, his eyes cold and sharp as blades.
"Did I stutter?"
The guard flinched.
"Bring the royal physician. Now."
"But sire, the royal physicians are meant for—"
"NOW."
The guard ran like he'd been set on fire.
Kira returned his gaze to Helena. Her breaths were shallow, lips pale. She tried to open her eyes but only managed a weak groan.
Kira swallowed tightly.
Why did seeing her like this… bother him?
Annoyance flickered across his face—
not at her, but at himself.
He lifted her carefully, supporting her back so she wouldn't choke on her own breath.
Her head rested weakly against his shoulder for a second before he pushed the thought away.
"It's just the curse," he muttered to himself.
"This… feeling. It's nothing."
But even as he said it, he adjusted her position more gently.
Minutes later, the royal physician rushed in, panicked from being summoned personally by the prince.
"Your Highness, I apologize for—"
"Save it," Kira snapped. "Check her."
The physician blinked at Helena, confused.
"Her? She's a palace maid…?"
"And she's sick," Kira growled. "Do your job."
The physician bowed quickly and knelt beside Helena.
Kira stepped back but didn't leave. His arms crossed, but his eyes—usually cold and unreadable—kept flicking back to her.
She looked small. Fragile. Too quiet.
The physician worked fast.
"She's exhausted," he said. "Overworked. Severely dehydrated. She needs rest, warm food, medicine—"
"She will get all of that," Kira cut in.
The guard and physician shared a look.
The prince… caring about someone?
Impossible.
But Kira didn't care what they thought. His jaw tightened as he watched the sweat gather on Helena's forehead.
How long had she been pushing herself?
How long had she been hurting—because of him?
Kira's fingers curled at his sides.
"This won't happen again," he muttered under his breath.
The guard blinked.
"Your Highness?"
"Nothing," Kira said quickly.
But he didn't walk away.
He stayed there, silent, stiff, strangely… protective…
as Helena slept.