The infirmary has never felt this quiet.
Even with all the movements; doctors preparing trays, nurses adjusting tubes, Esther hovering nearby, the air feels muffled. Like the walls themselves are holding their breath.
I lie back against the soft recline of the padded bench, a warm blanket drawn across my legs. My eyes flick to the other bed. She lies there; pale, smaller somehow, her usually sharp eyes sunken beneath heavy lids.
Queen Morgana.
The woman who once called me a phase. A burden. A mistake.
Now she will live… because of me.
Cassian sits beside me, his hand in mine. It's the hand that once slipped a ring onto my finger, and tonight, it feels heavier. Like even our skin carries the weight of what we're about to do.
"You're sure?" he asks for the third time, his voice low.
I nod. "She's the Queen."
He swallows. "But you're my queen."
A flicker of heat rises in my chest. I squeeze his hand gently. Then the doctor steps forward — Dr. Renard, the new royal physician with silver streaks in his temples and too many things unsaid in his eyes.
"We'll begin now," he says calmly. "We'll draw from your arm first, Your Highness, and regulate the transfusion slowly. Your vitals will be monitored at all times."
I nod again, wordless.
The moment the needle slides in, there's a slight pinch. Then warmth. Then… a strange detachment, like something inside me is being borrowed.
I watch the deep red flow through the tube, winding its way into the Queen's body, like a thread connecting two fates that were never meant to meet.
And yet… here we are.
Morgana stirs on her bed. Her eyes flutter weakly, and for one breathless second, she turns her head toward me.
Our gazes meet.
Hers are glassy, dulled by pain and fatigue… but behind them, something flickers. Not gratitude. Not affection.
Recognition.
And maybe… regret.
But she says nothing.
The transfusion continues in silence, except for the rhythmic beep of machines. Cassian rests his forehead lightly against my shoulder. I don't ask what he's thinking. I already know.
We are all too tangled in things we don't yet understand.
"They say blood is thicker than water," I whisper silently, watching mine slip into her veins. "But this isn't about thickness. This is about truth. And something in me is starting to ache for it."
I close my eyes for a moment and let the room fade.
I don't need applause. I don't need thanks.
But I do need answers.
And I have a feeling… this is just the beginning.
A few days after, the palace hasn't returned to normal… not quite. The rhythm is slower, like everyone is walking around something fragile and sacred.
Queen Morgana is recovering in her private chambers. The halls outside her quarters are heavily guarded now, not from enemies but from questions. From whispers.
Esther says she's stronger. Eating again. Sitting up. But not speaking much.
And not asking for me.
Not even once.
I don't let it bother me,not on the surface. But it sits in my chest, a weight I can't name. I gave her my blood. I helped save her life. I expected nothing in return but still, silence cuts deeper than any blade.
I walk into the garden where Cassian waits for me beneath the hanging fig trees. He's not wearing his formal robes today but just a loose shirt and slacks, hair slightly tousled. He looks tired, but calm.
He smiles when he sees me.
"How are you feeling?" he asks, reaching for my hand.
"Stronger," I say. "But I think I need to talk to her."
He looks away, thoughtful. "She's… guarded. More than usual."
"Because she knows?" I whisper.
Cassian meets my eyes. "She hasn't said anything. But the doctors confirmed the match again. It's undeniable, Celeste. Your blood is rare. So is hers. And now…"
"…now there's only one explanation left," I finish quietly.
He doesn't respond. He doesn't have to.
A breeze moves through the trees, brushing the edge of my gown. I glance toward the Queen's tower, rising in the distance. There's movement on the balcony. A figure in black, Shea.
Shea vanishes before I can be sure she saw me.
"She's still here?" I murmur.
"Yes," Cassian says, jaw tight. "But she's under watch. No one's letting her disappear again."
I nod. My thoughts swirl.
Whispers have begun in the court. I hear them in the marble corridors, in the kitchen when the maids forget I'm within earshot.
"She bled for the Queen."
"It doesn't make sense."
"Why would Celeste's blood match unless…"
Unless.
The word floats in every corner of the palace like a ghost that refuses to rest.
And I… I've started wondering too. About my past. About that strange bond I've always felt when I stood beneath the portrait of the Judge King Lucien. About the way Queen Morgana flinches when I speak certain truths.
Cassian touches my wrist. "When she's stronger… we'll ask. Together."
I nod again.
But deep down, I know the truth is already rising, like a tide that cannot be turned back.
And when it comes, it will change everything.
***
The afternoon light bathes the palace walls in soft gold when the knock comes.
Esther pokes her head into the sitting room where I'm reviewing reports with Cassian. "Your Highness… the Council has arrived."
I exchanged glances with him.
"All of them?" he asks.
"Just a few. Lord Edric leads them."
Cassian sighs quietly and rises. "Let's not keep them waiting."
I smooth my gown and follow him into the formal receiving lounge, where Lord Edric and three other council members, Lord Balin, Lady Kira, and the ever-blunt Chancellor Romil, stand tall in ceremonial robes. Their faces are composed, but their eyes… curious. Searching.
They bow slightly when we enter.
"My Prince. Princess Celeste," Edric says with his usual measured grace. "We came abearing concern and respect. We're relieved to hear the Queen's condition is stable."
"She's resting," Cassian replies. "Still under the doctor's care."
"And recovering because of Princess Celeste's extraordinary sacrifice," Lady Kira adds, her voice soft but pointed. "A match like that… very rare. Extremely rare."
Silence thickens the air.
Edric clears his throat gently. "Your Highness… forgive our boldness, but as the Royal Council, we are bound to ensure that all matters concerning the Royal House of Mática are clear and honest before the people."
"Go on," Cassian says, voice neutral.
Edric's gaze shifts toward me. It's not hostile. Just… searching. Kind. Paternal.
"We ask this not with judgment but with necessity. Is Princess Celeste… by any chance… related to Her Majesty Queen Morgana?"
The room stills.
My fingers curl around the edge of the armrest. My pulse beats a little faster.
Cassian doesn't answer right away. His jaw tenses. His eyes slide to mine; waiting, asking and shielding.
I take a breath. The slowest one I can manage.
"I bled for the Queen," I say calmly, "because it was the right thing to do. Beyond duty. Beyond blood."
Romil speaks now, his voice clipped and sharp. "That's not the question."
Cassian steps forward. "The Queen has not confirmed any relation."
Edric nods, but doesn't relent. "Then we respectfully request that Her Majesty issue a formal clarification, to dispel rumors that are already circling the noble houses."
Lady Kira adds gently, "Celeste has become a beacon to this kingdom, and we support her fully. But if there is truth that connects her to the royal bloodline, the people deserve to know. And so does she."
A beat passes.
Cassian places a hand on my shoulder. "You will have your answer. Soon."
They bow again.
"We hope so," Edric says. "And please… extend our well wishes to the Queen."
When they leave, the silence they leave behind is louder than their presence.
I turn to Cassian, my voice low. "Did you see their eyes?"
"I saw what I've been feeling," he replies. "The kingdom is beginning to ask the one question we've both buried."
I walk to the window, watching the council carriage disappear behind the marble gates.
If the Queen won't speak, someone else will. And when the truth comes out…
I close my eyes, breathing in the slow storm rising around me.
I must be ready.