Page 9 of Blood Weaver
Governor Theodore Otto of Lomewood was a rotund man, aging but still possessing a vitality that hinted at a more youthful and robust past. His full beard was salt-and-pepper, each strand meticulously groomed, portraying a man who cared deeply about his appearance. His round spectacles sat low on his nose and magnified his hazel eyes, which usually held a calculating, yet discerning gaze. Today, however, they were wild with fear.
He was dressed, as always, in the finest robes tailored just for him — a deep blue shade embroidered with intricate silver patterns that reflected his elevated rank. His fingers, pudgy and short, were adorned with multiple rings, each signifying a different accomplishment or title. In Lomewood, his word was law, and while he was often known for his strategic mind and diplomatic skills, he was not beyond showing his temper when provoked.
His sudden, unannounced appearance was unusual. Governor Theodore never went anywhere without at least two guards by his side, yet today, he was alone. The desperation in his voice was palpable.
“What's the matter, Governor?” I inquired, trying to mask my surprise. His presence in my clinic was unprecedented, and the urgency in his demeanor piqued my concern.
“An envoy from Valoria is here and he’s extremely ill!”
My brows shot up. If it was an envoy from Valoria, I couldn’t show my face. They might recognize me.
“What happened?” I asked hesitantly.
“We were having lunch when he suddenly collapsed. Please, hurry!”
I didn’t move. “Tell me what he ate, and I can come up with an antidote.”
“No, no! You need to come see him now!”
I sighed. “Governor, just tell me what he ate.”
Clearly exasperated, he began to recall their dinner. “Lamb, duck, vegetables … oh, and some fae fruit.”
The mention of fruit sparked my interest. “By any chance was this envoy from Eldwain?” Eldwain was another kingdom south of the Central Plains, whose people were of half fae ancestry. They were allies with Valoria, so it wouldn’t be a surprise if they were the ones who sent the envoy.
The governor’s eyes widened in shock. “Yes … yes, he is. How did you know?”
I sighed. “The people of Eldwain might be half fae, but fae food from Ellyndor is extremely poisonous to them.”
Governor Theo gasped, and his eyes rolled back as he stumbled backward a bit. “Dear gods, I’ve poisoned the young prince.”
I shot up to my feet in shock. “The envoy is Prince Caelan of Eldwain?” I nearly screamed.
“Shhh!” he quieted me. “No one is supposed to know!”
Prince Caelan wasn’t just the Prince of Eldwain … he used to be my best friend. Growing up, we were inseparable. It was always Caelan, me, and my brother Marcellus. If the prince was here as an envoy … that meant Marcellus was as well. Unless they had a falling out, which was entirely possible with both their fiery tempers. In any event, I couldn’t imagine my brother assigning this task to Caelan alone.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have the herbs necessary to treat him. It would take days of travel into the mountains to find it, and by then he would already be dead. My only option was to feed him my blood. My blood could cure just about anything. While Marcellus was a blood mage, his blood didn’t possess healing properties like mine did.
I was about to follow the governor out when it dawned on me. If I healed Caelan with my blood, my identity would be revealed. I couldn’t afford that to happen. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my brother or Caelan, but I was still unsure if it was safe to return to Valoria. Until I found out the truth Sir Edric kept hidden from me, I wouldn’t step foot back home, much less let anyone know who I was.
But I couldn’t let Caelan die.
“Governor, I need some time to prepare an antidote. I’ll meet you at your residence in thirty minutes.”
He nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, I’ll give you one hundred glint. Just heal the prince!”
One hundred glint was far more than I could ever ask for, but I wasn’t about to squabble. “I’ll be there soon.”
As soon as the governor left, I darted to my shelf of herbs and pulled out the ones most similar to the cure. After grinding them into a fine powder, I boiled water and dumped the herbs inside. Once it had boiled for exactly ten minutes, I poured the tincture into a small vial. Before sealing it, I pricked my finger and leta few drops of blood fall into the vial as the final ingredient. Grabbing my satchel of medicine and slipping the vial inside, I ran to the governor’s residence.
The governor lived in one of Lomewood’s most prestigious architectural marvels. Positioned at the heart of town, it was a three-story stone mansion surrounded by a high, ivy-covered wall. The entrance featured a grand wooden door with intricate carvings that depicted the history of Lomewood, flanked by two tall torches that lit the entrance at night.
The grounds were extensive and flawlessly manicured. Rare flowers and exotic trees imported from distant lands dotted the landscape. Gravel pathways weaved around serene fountains and quiet reflection ponds, providing the townsfolk a glimpse of the opulence inside.
Upon entering the mansion, one was greeted by a magnificent hallway adorned with marble floors and golden chandeliers suspended from high ceiling beams. Artworks from famed artists all over the realm hung on the walls, each telling a different story. A majestic staircase spiraled upwards to the private quarters and guest rooms, an area off-limits to most.
To the left was the opulent dining hall that was large enough to comfortably seat fifty guests. Tall windows provided ample natural light during the day and magnificent views of glittering stars at night. The walls were decorated with tapestries showcasing the various achievements of past governors.
