Darkness lingered in her mind, oppressive and disorienting. Time passed in fragments, flashes of noise, heat, and pain that twisted into an incoherent blur. She recalled being jostled roughly, the sensation of being carried, and voices that blended into a low hum.

  “She’s lost too much blood,” one voice had said, sharp and urgent.

  “Faster,” came another. “If she dies, he’ll—”

  The memory dissolved into a haze of warmth spreading through her body, soothing the sharpest edges of pain. Light flickered at the edge of her consciousness, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the brush of something soft against her cheek, followed by a voice, gentle but commanding.

  “Rest. You’ve done enough.”

  The command carried her back into the dark, her fragmented awareness slipping further from reality.

  When she stirred again, her first sensation was the stiffness in her limbs, like she hadn’t moved in weeks. Her throat was dry, her lips chapped, and the sharp ache in her side had dulled to a persistent throb. The faint smell of incense and herbs wafted through the air, and a gentle warmth spread across her body, as though a hearth burned somewhere nearby.

  Cassie tried to move, but her body refused. A weak sound escaped her lips, and she cracked her eyes open, wincing at the muted light. Stained-glass windows stretched high above her, their intricate patterns casting soft hues across the stone walls of the room.

  Her head turned slightly, though it felt as though it weighed twice as much as it should. The soft sheets beneath her rustled faintly, and a chill pressed against her exposed skin where the blanket had slipped from her shoulder.

  A voice spoke softly nearby. “Hey, you’re finally awake.”

  The sound drew her attention, though her vision remained blurry. A figure came into focus: a woman seated beside her, dressed in flowing white robes trimmed with gold. She had a striking, almost otherworldly features: high cheekbones framed by soft, wavy hair the color of sunlight, and eyes so pale they seemed to shimmer like silver.

  Her hands glowed faintly as they hovered above Cassie’s arm, the warmth emanating from them oddly soothing. A serene expression rested on her face, but there was an intensity in her gaze, as if she saw far more than the surface of things.

  “You’ve been asleep for days,” the woman said gently, her voice low and steady. “Take your time.”

  Cassie’s throat burned as she tried to speak. “Days?”

  “Four,” the woman replied, inclining her head slightly. “Your injuries were severe. Without help, you wouldn’t have survived.”

  Her chest tightened as flashes of the ambush returned. The beast’s claws, the cloaked figure, and the final, searing pain that had stolen her strength. Her hand instinctively moved toward her side, but the healer stopped her with a faint smile.

  “Don’t,” the woman said. “I’ve mended you to the best of my abilities, but it will still take time before you regain your full strength.”

  The golden glow surrounding the woman’s hands faded, though the warmth lingered in Cassie’s skin. “Who are you?” she asked hoarsely, her voice barely audible.

  “I am but a humble healer,” the woman replied with a faint smile. “And you are lucky to be alive.”

  Cassie blinked slowly, her thoughts sluggish as she tried to process the situation. Before she could respond, the door creaked open. Heavy boots struck the floor with a deliberate rhythm, and Theodoric entered the room, his presence commanding as always.

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  His armor bore fresh dents and scratches, though it was polished enough to reflect the dim light. His cloak hung loosely over his shoulders, and his sharp gaze moved immediately to the healer.

  “Stepmother,” he said, his tone even but carrying a note of familiarity.

  Cassie froze. Stepmother? Her eyes darted to the healer, her mind reeling as the pieces clicked into place. This wasn’t just any healer. This was Queen Lysandra, the one governing the kingdom from the shadows and was often the center of whispered rumors about her mysterious abilities.

  Theodoric’s gaze shifted to Cassie, his expression unreadable as he stepped closer. “I see you’re still stubborn enough to cling to life,” he said dryly, though his words carried a hint of relief.

  “I’m just built different,” she murmured, her voice rasping.

  The queen rose gracefully from her seat, smoothing her robes as she turned to face Theodoric. “She’s stable now, but she’ll need more rest before she’s fully recovered.”

  Theodoric’s sharp gaze flicked to the faint golden lines that pulsed briefly across Cassie’s forearm before disappearing into her skin. “You’ve used a significant amount of your strength,” he said, his voice low. “If the court finds out—”

  “They won’t,” Lysandra interrupted, her tone calm but firm. “Not unless someone tells them.”

  Cassie’s eyes narrowed. “Why would it matter if they know?”

  Lysandra turned her attention to Cassie, her expression softening. “The court does not take kindly to what it doesn’t understand,” she said carefully. “And while my abilities serve to protect this kingdom, there are those who would twist my actions for their own gain. Healing a palace maid, no matter the circumstances, would give them ample ammunition.”

  Her words landed heavily. Cassie had almost forgotten her role here. She might have fought alongside Theodoric’s forces, risking her life countless times, but in the eyes of the court, she was still a maid. A servant. Her survival didn’t justify the queen expending her rare and precious magic.

  “She’s not just a maid,” Theodoric said, his voice sharp. “She’s—”

  “She is what the court believes her to be,” Lysandra cut in smoothly, her gaze unwavering. “And that is all they need to know.”

  The tension between them hung thick in the air. Theodoric’s frustration was evident in the tightness of his jaw, but Lysandra remained poised, her tone brooking no argument.

  Cassie lay still, trying to piece together her thoughts. The warmth of the healing, the golden light that had danced across her skin was all too familiar. What little memories of Evelyn’s otome game came rushing back, of the heroine whose divine magic had changed the course of the story. The resemblance was uncanny.

  Was Lysandra connected to that same thread of power? And if so, what did it mean for her now that power was responsible for her current state of survival?

  “Why risk it for me?” Cassie asked finally, her voice quiet but firm.

  Lysandra’s gaze softened. “Because no life is unworthy of saving,” she said simply. “And because you have proven yourself to be far more than they see.”

  Cassie exhaled shakily, dropping her gaze. “That’s a pretty sentiment. But I’m not sure I believe it.” she admitted.

  Lysandra offered a small, knowing smile. “You already are. Remember that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.”

  The sincerity in her voice was undeniable, but it only left Cassie with more questions.

  “Rest now,” Lysandra said, stepping toward the door. “You’ll need your strength for what lies ahead.”

  She left the room with a quiet grace, her robes trailing behind her like the faint scent of herbs and incense.

  Theodoric lingered, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall near the window. “You’ve made quite the impression,” he said, his tone dry but carrying an edge of amusement.

  Cassie managed a faint smirk. “Not on purpose.”

  “No one ever does,” he replied.

  His words lingered in the air, carrying more weight than she expected. Before she could respond, raised voices echoed faintly from the hallway, sharp and tense.

  Theodoric’s posture straightened, the tension in his body unmistakable. His hand moved instinctively toward the hilt of his sword, though he made no move to draw it.

  Cassie caught the flicker of unease in his expression. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice steady despite the dread creeping into her chest.

  His eyes didn’t leave the door. “Something you’ll figure out soon enough.”

  Another voice joined the argument outside, louder now, though the words remained muffled by the heavy door. It wasn’t panic, but the kind of tension she recognized from battles just before swords were drawn.

  Theodoric stepped toward the door, his expression hardening. “Stay here. Rest.”

  Before Cassie could protest, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him. The faint sound of boots against stone faded as he strode toward the commotion.