Kisha didn't wait. She was already racing for the door, her heart pounding in her chest, screaming for help as she vanished into the woods in search of the nearest healer.
The healer, a middle-aged man with tired eyes and calloused hands, wasn't particularly experienced, nor was he wealthy but he arrived soon enough. Without wasting a moment, he crouched beside Anaya and began his examination, his hands moving with measured care.
"Please, my lady must get better," Kisha pleaded, her voice trembling as tears streamed freely down her cheeks. "She can't possibly be poisoned. The food was prepared by me and the young master himself."
"Just calm down, Kisha, and let the doctor do his work," Rhys said gently, though sadness weighed heavily in his tone. His gaze remained fixed on Anaya's pale face.
Kisha bit her lower lip and nodded reluctantly, backing away to give the healer space.
