Chapter 12:
In His Majesty Armory
Gideon stepped into the private armory, his eyes scanning the walls lined with weapons and polished armor. It was a room built for kings and warriors alike—impressive, cold, and quiet.
"Gideon is here, Sire," Lavish announced before stepping out, leaving the two men alone.
Prince Richard didn't turn immediately. He was cleaning a sword, its silver blade catching the light. Without warning, he lunged forward, striking toward Gideon in one swift motion. Gideon's body reacted before his mind did—ducking, stepping back, dodging left, then right as the prince kept coming.
Steel sliced through the air, deliberate and fast.
Gideon snatched a nearby training sword, ready to strike back—until he stopped. His grip tightened, but he didn't move. Richard was the prince. Not an enemy.
Richard lowered his weapon, letting out a low laugh. "Good reflexes."
He extended a hand. Gideon hesitated, then took it.
"You see all this?" Richard gestured to the array of weapons. "They're worthless without someone who knows how to wield them. My father believes I am that someone. A weapon, forged and sharpened. But a weapon alone isn't enough."
Gideon stood silently as Richard paced slowly, his voice calm but firm.
"I want a kingdom where leaders speak plainly, laugh without restraint, and meet at a round table—not behind cold thrones. I know you're wondering why I'm saying this to you. So answer me one thing."
He turned to face Gideon directly.
"What drives you? What wakes you up every morning?"
Gideon paused, not used to being asked such things.
"I haven't thought about it," he said honestly. "I live to fulfill the purpose given to me. My master raised me. He asked me to protect the one thing dearest to him… and that is what I will do."
Richard studied him, the edge of his earlier amusement fading. "That's a noble thing to say."
There was a beat of silence before Gideon spoke again.
"If I may ask… why the interest? Do you need something of me? Is that why you're testing me—trying to figure out who I am?"
Richard gave a half-smile. "Sharp as ever. Yes. I need your help."
He explained the situation—about the secret herb merchant, the growing suspicions, the delicate threads they couldn't afford to pull too hard. The risks. The importance of someone new, someone unknown in the capital. Someone strong, skilled, and invisible to the eyes of the court.
"That's why I asked you," Richard finished. "You're not bound to me. But I don't believe in letting a good weapon gather dust. Especially not one like you."
Gideon bowed his head slightly. "I understand. And I thank you for the offer. Truly. But I must decline. My duty—"
Richard raised a hand, cutting him off gently.
"Just think about it a little longer."
His tone had shifted—less commanding, more personal.
"And if you ever need a place to train…" He glanced over his shoulder as he walked away. "This room is always open."
Then he was gone, leaving Gideon standing alone, surrounded by polished steel and silent questions.
In the medical building
One of the assistants, a young maid named Pauline, paused near the mixing table, her eyes wide with curiosity. "My lady, do you need help?"
Mariela didn't look up from her careful stirring. "Don't worry, Pauline. This is just something I'm working on personally. And please, I've told you before—just Mariela is fine."
Pauline hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. "My apologies, Mariela. But… you might still need help, right?"
Mariela sighed, but there was a playful edge to it. "Fine, since you insist. Can you boil some water for me? Make sure it's really hot. And while it's heating, I'll need the Wyrmroost leaves."
Pauline perked up immediately, fetching the jar from the shelf. "Wyrmroost… laid in hot water, it steams away fevers and lung rot."
"Exactly," Mariela said, already measuring out her next ingredient. "But mixed with this—" she held up a pale green powder "—it should reduce scar tissue faster than anything I've seen."
Together, they worked quickly, the scent of herbs filling the small room. As the mixture thickened in the clay bowl, Mariela leaned back and let out a quiet breath. The texture, the color—it was just right.
Pauline watched in awe. "If this works… my lady—sorry, Mariela—this could change everything. A cream that removes scars? That's… that's amazing."
Mariela grinned, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll try it first. Quietly."
Pauline zipped her lips with her fingers. "You have my word."
Mariela glanced down at the still-warm bowl in her hands and smiled again—this time to herself.
Later that day
The soft glow of lanterns lit the hallway as the last attendants filtered out of the medical building.
"Thank you for your hard work today," Lady Tiana said, her voice calm as always. "You may go now, Mariela."
Mariela bowed politely. "Thank you for your lesson, my lady. Rest well tonight."
They spoke in front of Tiana's office before parting ways. As Mariela stepped into the quiet evening air, she held the small jar of cream she had concocted earlier close to her chest.
Her footsteps slowed as she neared the courtyard where Prince Richard had been training that morning. The memory hit her unbidden—his shirtless figure, the muscles in motion, the casual smile as their eyes met.
Her cheeks flared hot.
"Oh no," she muttered, fanning her face with her hands. "Sir Marriott didn't raise you for this! What on earth are you thinking about, Mariela?"
She shook her head and hurried past the training grounds.
"Where's Gideon, anyway?" she murmured. Normally he would've appeared by now to scold her about resting properly. But the night air was still and silent.
Without him hovering, she allowed her steps to carry her to the palace's small garden.
When she arrived, her breath caught in her throat. The place was just as magical as the first day she saw it. Moonlight spilled over the quiet lake, stars shimmering faintly above. Flowers bowed gently in the evening breeze, their petals kissed by silver light.
Mariela knelt at the water's edge and touched its cool surface. Ripples danced across it, distorting her reflection. Slowly, a smile curved her lips.
This is what I wanted, she thought. To heal. To help. To be.
"Do you like yourself that much?"
The voice made her spin in alarm. Her foot slipped against the slick stones.
"Ah—!"
She teetered backward, and in a heartbeat, a firm grip caught her by the hips, pulling her away from the water's edge.
Mariela's heart hammered as she found herself face-to-face with Prince Richard.
"Are you alright?" he asked, brows knitting slightly. "You look pale… and red at the same time."
"I—I'm fine, sire," she stammered, turning her head sharply. "I'd be even better if you let go first."
He blinked, then released her at once, stepping back with a faint smile. "My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you."
"What are you doing here, sire?" she asked, trying to sound calm even as her pulse raced.
"I might ask you the same," he said smoothly. "Stargazing?"
"Yes. Stargazing," she said quickly.
"Funny," he replied with a teasing lilt, "because when I arrived, you seemed rather captivated by your own reflection. I didn't know you were like that, Mariela."
Her mouth fell open. "I—! I wasn't—! I was admiring the view!" she protested, her voice catching awkwardly as she gestured toward the moonlit lake.
His eyes softened. "Ah… yes. Splendid indeed."
She didn't notice the way his gaze lingered—not on the lake.
"I'll take my leave now, sire. Good night," she said hastily, stepping back.
But his voice stopped her.
"Wait."
She turned hesitantly.
"I was actually looking for you," he said. "Do you have time to join me for tea tomorrow?"
"Tea?"
"Yes. Or…" His smile turned playful. "Do you not like tea?"
"I—I do," she replied, flustered.
"Good. Then it's settled. I'll inform Lady Tiana that you'll join me in the late morning." He gave her a last warm smile before strolling away, his cloak catching the faint breeze. "Good night, Mariela."
She stood rooted to the spot, clutching her satchel.
"Tea? With the prince? Me?" she whispered. Her face turned crimson. "Wait—I didn't even say yes!"
"Found you."
Mariela jumped again as Gideon's calm voice sounded behind her.
"I knew you'd come here." His eyes softened slightly. "I went to the medical building, but you weren't there. You need to wait for me, my lady."
Mariela gave a guilty smile. "Sorry."
But Gideon didn't scold her further. Instead, he gently took her hand and led her back toward her quarters, the scent of night-blooming flowers following in their wake.