Mira's POV
"GET UP!"
The guard's shout jolted me awake. Pain exploded through my body as rough hands grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet.
My legs buckled. I hadn't stood in three days. Hadn't eaten. Hadn't drunk anything but the few drops of water I'd managed to lick from the cell walls.
"I said GET UP!" The guard slapped me across the face.
My vision swam, but I forced my legs to hold. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of dragging me.
"It's time," another guard said with cruel satisfaction. "Queen Isadora will see you now."
Fear and hope warred in my chest. Three days. I'd survived three days in darkness and hunger. Now I'd finally face the Queen—and possibly the Prince.
Would he remember me? Would he tell the truth?
Or would he do what his mother wanted and let me disappear into servitude?
They pulled me from the cell. My bare feet left bloody prints on the stone—I hadn't realized they were cut until now. Everything hurt too much to notice individual pains.
The guards dragged me up the dungeon stairs. Each step was agony. My vision blurred. My stomach cramped so hard I nearly vomited, but there was nothing inside me to bring up.
Sunlight hit my face like a physical blow. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears streaming down my cheeks. After three days of darkness, even dim morning light was too bright.
"Keep moving," a guard growled, shoving me forward.
We walked through corridors of impossible beauty—marble floors, golden chandeliers, paintings that probably cost more than everyone in the Lower Districts earned in a lifetime. Servants and nobles stopped to stare at me. Their faces showed disgust, curiosity, pity.
I kept my head up. I wouldn't let them see me broken.
Finally, we reached massive doors carved with the royal wolf symbol. Two guards pulled them open, and my breath caught.
The throne room was enormous. Sunlight poured through tall windows. Court nobles lined both sides, hundreds of them, all dressed in silks and jewels. They whispered and pointed as I was dragged inside.
And at the far end, sitting on a throne of black stone, was Queen Isadora.
She looked even more terrifying in daylight. Her crown glittered like captured stars. Her dress was deep purple—the color of mourning and judgment. But it was her smile that made my blood freeze.
She looked satisfied. Like a cat that had cornered a mouse.
The guards forced me to my knees in front of the throne. The marble was cold and hard against my bones.
"Mira Ashwood," Queen Isadora's voice rang through the massive room. "You stand accused of assaulting Crown Prince Cassian, heir to the throne of Asterlyn. How do you plead?"
My throat was so dry I could barely speak. "Not guilty."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Bold words," the Queen said softly. "Especially for someone in your position. The evidence is clear—you were found over my son's body, your hands covered in his blood. Three royal guards lay dead around you. What else could you be but an assassin?"
"I'm a healer." My voice came out stronger than I felt. "Your son was poisoned with Nightshade Tears. I saved his life."
The Queen's smile widened. "You? A magicless commoner? Saved the Crown Prince from the deadliest poison in the kingdom?" She laughed, and the court laughed with her. "What an entertaining fantasy."
Rage burned through my exhaustion. "It's not fantasy! I used silvervine, moonflower, and dragon's breath oil to neutralize the poison. I extracted it from his blood manually. I saved him when no one else was there to help!"
"Silence!" The Queen's voice cracked like a whip. "You will not speak such lies in my presence."
"They're not lies!" I struggled against the guards' grip. "Ask him! Ask the Prince! He was conscious! He thanked me! He tried to tell the guards I saved him!"
"My son was delirious from poison," Queen Isadora said coldly. "He remembers nothing reliable from that night. The royal healer, Master Elara, saved his life with her magic. Not you."
"That's not true and you know it!" The words burst out before I could stop them. "You're lying! You're covering up the truth because you can't stand that a magicless person did something your precious magical healers couldn't!"
The entire throne room went silent. You could have heard a pin drop.
Queen Isadora's face went very still. Very calm. That scared me more than her anger.
"You dare call your queen a liar?" Her voice was soft as silk and sharp as a blade.
Too late, I realized my mistake. I'd just sealed my own death warrant.
"I—" I started.
"ENOUGH!" The Queen stood, her dress flowing around her like dark water. "I have heard enough. Mira Ashwood, for the crime of assault on royalty, for spreading malicious lies about your betters, and for gross disrespect to the crown, I sentence you to—"
The throne room doors exploded open.
Everyone turned.
A figure stood in the doorway, backlit by the morning sun. Tall, broad-shouldered, moving with controlled power despite obvious weakness.
My heart stopped.
Crown Prince Cassian.
He looked different than he had in the alley—clean, dressed in royal finery, his dark hair combed back. But those eyes. Those impossible silver eyes were the same.
And they locked onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath.
The crowd parted like water as he walked forward. He moved slowly, carefully—still recovering from the poison. But there was steel in his spine and purpose in every step.
"Mother," he said, his voice carrying through the silent room. "What are you doing?"
Queen Isadora's face flickered with something—surprise? annoyance?—before settling back into calm control. "Cassian. You should be resting. Your health—"
"My health is fine. Thanks to her." He pointed at me.
Hope exploded in my chest so powerfully I felt dizzy.
He remembered. He REMEMBERED.
"Cassian," the Queen said carefully, "you're still confused from the poison. This girl was found over your body with blood on her hands. She—"
"Saved my life." His voice cut through hers like a sword. "I remember everything, Mother. Every moment. I remember dying in that alley. I remember the poison burning through my veins. And I remember HER."
He moved closer, until he stood right in front of me. I stared up at him, unable to look away from those silver eyes.
"I remember her hands on my chest, fighting to keep my heart beating. I remember the pain when she used dragon's breath oil to burn the poison out—pain that saved my life. I remember her voice telling me not to die, like she actually cared whether I lived." His jaw clenched. "And I remember thanking her before my guards arrested her for murder."
The throne room erupted in whispers.
Queen Isadora's face was a mask, but I saw fury flash in her eyes. "Cassian, you don't understand the implications—"
"I understand perfectly." He turned to face her, his back straight despite his weakness. "A magicless healer did what our magical healers couldn't. She saved the Crown Prince with nothing but knowledge and courage. And your response is to execute her for it?"
"She TOUCHED you!" The Queen's control cracked. "She put her filthy, common hands on the future king! That alone is worth—"
"Worth my gratitude." Cassian's voice was firm. Final. "Mother, I invoke Crown Right."
Gasps echoed through the room. Even I knew what that meant—Crown Right allowed the heir to overrule even the Queen on certain matters.
Queen Isadora's face went pale with rage. "You wouldn't dare."
"I just did." He turned to the guards holding me. "Release her. Now."
They looked at the Queen uncertainly.
"I said NOW!" Command rang in his voice—the voice of a future king who expected to be obeyed.
The guards let go. I collapsed forward, catching myself on trembling hands.
"Mira Ashwood," Prince Cassian said formally, "I pardon you of all charges. More than that—I owe you a life debt. By ancient law, you may claim one boon from the crown. Name it, and if it's within my power, it shall be granted."
A boon. I could ask for anything. Money. Land. Freedom to leave the kingdom and never look back.
But I thought of Tommy with his broken arm. Of Mrs. Chen and her sick baby. Of all the people in the Lower Districts who needed healing but couldn't afford magical healers.
I lifted my head and met the Prince's eyes. "I want to heal. Not as a servant, not in hiding. I want the right to practice healing freely, without fear of arrest or persecution. I want magicless healers to be recognized as legitimate."
Silence.
Then Prince Cassian smiled. It transformed his face, made him look younger and almost... happy?
"Granted," he said.
"NO!" Queen Isadora's shout rang through the throne room. "Cassian, you cannot—"
"It's done, Mother." He offered me his hand. "Can you stand?"
I stared at his hand. At the prince offering to help a magicless commoner stand. At the complete reversal of everything our kingdom stood for.
I took it.
His grip was strong and warm. He pulled me gently to my feet, steadying me when I swayed.
"Thank you," he said softly, meant only for my ears. "Thank you for not letting me die in that alley."
Tears burned my eyes. "You're welcome."
Queen Isadora's face was a mask of pure fury. "If you insist on this foolishness, Cassian, then this girl becomes YOUR responsibility. She'll work directly under you, in the healing ward, where I can keep my eye on her."
It wasn't what she wanted—execution—but she'd found a way to keep control. To keep me close and watched.
Prince Cassian's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Agreed. Mira will be my personal healer."
"Your WHAT?" A new voice cut through the room.
Everyone turned.
A woman stood near the throne—beautiful, elegant, dripping with jewels. Her eyes were hard as diamonds as she stared at me with undisguised hatred.
"Who," she said, her voice like poisoned honey, "is THIS magicless creature, and why is my fiancé holding her hand?"
My stomach dropped.
Fiancé.
Crown Prince Cassian was engaged.
And from the look on his fiancée's face, I'd just made a very powerful enemy.