Page 10 of Blood Weaver
To the right, a more intimate drawing room was furnished with plush velvet seating, a wide fireplace, and shelves filled with rare books and artifacts. This was where the governor usually held his meetings and entertained important guests.
Deep within the mansion, I’d heard that the governor had a private study, a sanctuary filled with maps, scrolls, and tomes detailing Lomewood’s history and the neighboring regions. A small hidden door led to the wine cellar, which boasted vintagesfrom the best vineyards across the continent. The governor's residence was not just a symbol of his status, but also a testament to Lomewood's prosperity and the town's significance in the region.
Upon reaching the front door, I was hastily ushered inside with a sense of urgency that belied the tension in the air.
Prince Caelan had been moved to the drawing room. His unconscious body was lying on the plush velvet couch with the governor, Marcellus, and another person hovering over him.
Adjusting my wrinkled blouse, I cleared my throat to announce my presence and stepped inside.
“Oh, thank the gods!” the governor exclaimed. “Prince Marcellus, this is Leila, our town’s, and perhaps the Central Plains’ most talented healer. She knew what was wrong with him almost immediately.”
My brother turned to face me, his blue eyes a mirror of my own but now lined with worry and fatigue. A cascade of wavy brown hair framed a rugged face that had grown more mature since I'd last seen him. A crescent moon on his forehead signaled his Valorian heritage. The jaw was sharper with a faint shadow of stubble, and his lips were pressed into a tight line of concern. Time had added lines of responsibility to his forehead, and the boyish mischief I remembered from our childhood had been replaced by the stern expression of a prince. His attire was rich, fitting for his royal status, with a cloak clasped by a golden emblem representing Valoria.
His gaze met mine, searching, but there was no flicker of recognition. I had changed a lot over the years, and the innocence of our childhood was now hidden behind the mask I wore as Leila, the healer. My brown hair, once long and flowing, was cut to my mid back and my attire was simple, unlike the elaborate dresses I used to wear.
“Leila,” he acknowledged with a curt nod, his voice deep and commanding. “I’ve been told you can help him,” he said cautiously.
I nodded and managed a smile. “Of course, Your Highness.” It hurt, the formal address between us, but I had to keep my identity concealed. I couldn’t risk being recognized, not even by my own brother.
As I moved towards Caelan, I couldn't help but glance occasionally at Marcellus. Even amidst the dire situation, the heartache of being so close and yet so distant from my brother was overwhelming. I had to remind myself to focus on the task at hand and save Caelan.
Prince Caelan of Eldwain was a stark contrast to Marcellus, yet they shared the camaraderie of brothers. Whereas Marcellus was the very embodiment of night with his dark hair and intense gaze, Caelan seemed to embody the day with a head of tousled silver hair. Even in his unconscious state, his face retained an air of regality and serenity, a testament to the innate grace that came with his half-fae heritage.
His skin, though paler now due to his condition, usually boasted a healthy, sun-kissed glow, a testament to the many days spent outdoors, exploring the terrains of Eldwain. High cheekbones framed a straight nose, and his full lips, now slightly parted in distress, had a natural rosy tint.
Resting on his chest was an ornate silver pendant of a phoenix poised mid-flight – the symbol of Eldwain. It was encrusted with sparkling gems, each signifying a region in his kingdom. The pendant was a familiar sight. It was gifted to him by his mother on his eighth birthday.
His attire was elegant, yet less ostentatious than Marcellus's. He wore a finely tailored tunic in a shade of forest green, embroidered with silver threads that shimmered with every breath. Over the tunic he wore a leather vest, showcasing theblend of royalty and adventurer in him. But what was most captivating about Caelan were his eyes. Even closed, one could envision them – a mesmerizing shade of hazel that seemed to shift between green and brown, holding depths of wisdom, humor, and kindness. I had always found solace in those eyes during our childhood escapades.
As I prepared to administer the antidote, I felt a tug at my heartstrings. The boy I once knew had grown into this magnificent prince, and it was imperative that I save him, not just for Eldwain’s sake, but for the fond memories that bound us together.
I was about to tilt his head back when a hand wrapped around my wrist.
“What are you giving him?” Marcellus asked tersely.
“The cure. He needs it soon or hewilldie,” I replied adamantly.
My brother narrowed his eyes at me. “I don’t know who you are. How do I know you can be trusted? There don’t happen to be a lot of cures for fae lying around.”
He was right about that. The people from Eldwain and Ellyndor were rarely seen in the Central Plains.
“You’ll just have to trust me.” I ripped my wrist out of his hand. “I’m his only chance at survival. Now, will you let me help him, or are you going to let him die?”
“Your Highness, she is trustworthy,” the governor chimed in. “You may or may not have heard of her, but she’s the best healer in all the Central Plains. Possibly all of Asteria. I would only get the best for the prince.”
Marcellus looked wary, and rightfully so. But eventually, he nodded in acceptance.
I tilted Caelan’s head back and poured the liquid from the small vial into his mouth. After a few seconds, I released him and waited with bated breath as the color in his face returnedand he started to breathe normally. I placed three fingers on the pulse point at his wrist to confirm the antidote actually worked. I released a breath and turned to Marcellus and the governor.
“He’s fine. He’s going to be fine,” I said, relieved.
They both exhaled loudly and thanked me as if I’d just saved one of the gods.
The governor reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch filled to the brim with glints. “As promised,” he said, exhaling a relieved sigh.
I brushed off the governor’s generosity. “Oh, don’t worry. You don’t have to pay me. Especially not this much.”
The governor placed it in my hand. “Take it, Leila. It is much deserved.”
