Chapter 2 2

The fortress felt colder in the morning light, though Lyra couldn't decide whether it was the stone walls or the unease settling in her chest. She hadn't slept, not with the poisoned prince lingering in her thoughts. She paced the small chamber she'd been given, the narrow cot untouched. Sunlight filtered weakly through the single window, doing little to lift her spirits.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted her restless thoughts. Lyra opened it to find a young woman with soft, tawny hair and eyes that gleamed faintly gold. Her uniform marked her as one of the King's attendants.

"The King requests your presence," the attendant said briskly. "He awaits you in the apothecary."

Lyra grabbed her satchel and followed without question, though her pulse quickened. She hadn't expected Aldric to summon her so soon. The hallways felt even more labyrinthine in daylight, and the fortress seemed busier. Servants hurried about their tasks, and soldiers moved with purpose, their eyes darting toward her with veiled curiosity.

The apothecary was a sprawling chamber filled with shelves lined with jars, bottles, and bundles of dried herbs. The air was thick with the scent of lavender and something sharper, more acrid. Aldric stood near the center of the room, his broad shoulders tense as he inspected a row of vials.

"You're late," he said without turning around.

"I came as soon as I was summoned," Lyra replied, her voice steady.

Aldric turned to face her, one eyebrow arching slightly. "A healer with a sharp tongue. Interesting."

Ignoring the jab, she set her satchel on the nearest table and began unpacking her tools. "What have you gathered for me?"

Aldric gestured toward the array of ingredients spread across the table. "My attendants procured everything you requested and more. If you can't cure Darien with this, I'll start questioning your reputation."

Lyra bristled at the veiled threat but kept her expression neutral. "Then let's not waste time."

She examined the herbs and tinctures, mentally cataloging the possibilities. The poison's nature still eluded her, but the faint magical signature it left behind suggested it wasn't of mortal origin. A curse, perhaps? Her heart sank at the thought.

"What do you know about the attack on your brother?" she asked, her hands moving deftly to prepare a mixture.

Aldric's gaze darkened, the faint golden glow in his eyes intensifying. "He was hunting near the eastern border, close to the witch territories. We've had skirmishes with them before, but nothing like this. Whatever attacked him, it was swift-and it wasn't alone."

Lyra paused, her fingers tightening around a mortar and pestle. "You believe witches are responsible?"

"I believe someone is playing a dangerous game," Aldric replied. "And I intend to find out who."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Lyra said nothing, focusing instead on grinding the herbs into a fine paste. Witches were often scapegoats for misfortune, but if the poison truly carried a magical signature, the accusation wasn't entirely unfounded.

Once her preparation was complete, she placed the mixture into a vial and turned to Aldric. "This should help slow the poison's spread while I work to identify its source. I'll need to administer it to your brother directly."

Aldric nodded and led her back to Darien's chamber. The young prince looked even paler than before, his breathing shallow. Lyra knelt beside the bed and carefully applied the potion, her fingers brushing against his fevered skin.

Darien stirred, his eyelids fluttering. For a brief moment, his golden eyes opened, unfocused and distant. "The shadows..." he murmured, his voice barely audible. "They're coming..."

Lyra froze, her hand hovering over his chest. "What did he mean by that?"

Aldric's expression tightened, his jaw clenching. "He's delirious. Pay no attention to his ramblings."

But Lyra wasn't convinced. The fear in Darien's voice had felt too real, too urgent. She finished her work in silence, her mind churning with unanswered questions.

Once they left the chamber, Aldric turned to her, his gaze sharp. "How long will it take for you to identify the poison?"

"I'll need at least another day," Lyra replied. "Perhaps longer, depending on what I find."

"That's too long," Aldric growled, his frustration evident. "If Darien dies-"

"He won't," Lyra interrupted, meeting his gaze head-on. "Not if you let me do my work."

For a moment, the tension between them crackled like a storm about to break. Then Aldric exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. "Very well. But if you need anything, you come to me directly. Understood?"

Lyra nodded, though she doubted it would be that simple.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of research and preparation. Lyra pored over ancient texts in the apothecary, searching for any clue that might explain the poison's effects. The fortress library, though extensive, yielded little. Frustration gnawed at her, but she refused to give up.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, she was no closer to an answer. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, but she forced herself to continue. She couldn't afford to rest-not when Darien's life hung in the balance.

Her solitude was broken by a soft knock at the door. Lyra looked up to see the same young attendant from earlier, carrying a tray of food.

"You've been working all day," the girl said gently, setting the tray down. "You should eat."

Lyra offered a small smile, though her appetite was nonexistent. "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Maera," the girl replied. "I'm one of the King's attendants."

"Maera," Lyra repeated, testing the name on her tongue. "Tell me, has anyone else been summoned to treat the prince?"

Maera hesitated, her hands fidgeting with the edges of her apron. "There were others, before you. None of them succeeded. The King... he doesn't take failure lightly."

Lyra's stomach tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. "Thank you for telling me."

Maera nodded and slipped out of the room, leaving Lyra alone once more. The food remained untouched as Lyra returned to her work, her mind racing.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something larger was at play. Darien's wounds, the cursed poison, the King's simmering anger-it all pointed to a deeper threat, one that threatened not just the royal family but the entire kingdom, and she was caught in the middle of it.