Chapter 9:
Mariela lay sprawled across her plush bed, arms flung wide, eyes fixed on the embroidered canopy above her. Golden vines stitched in delicate swirls danced across the silk, but they offered no comfort. She let out a long sigh.
"It's been almost a week now," she muttered. "I've rearranged every herb in that room five different ways. Alphabetically. By color. By priority. By usage frequency. By the season of harvest."
She rolled over and buried her face into the soft pillows, groaning. "She keeps saying, 'Redo it, Mariela.' I swear, the storage room is starting to haunt my dreams."
Her muffled voice rose again. "I'm too young to be this tired."
A gentle knock tapped at the door.
"Enter," she called, her voice still weary.
The door creaked open, and in stepped Gideon, holding a small covered plate. The unmistakable scent of fresh strawberries drifted in.
"Oh, Gideon," she said, sitting up weakly.
He gave a half-smile. "My lady, I was told to bring you this."
She peeked beneath the cover and gasped. Strawberry cake—her favourite.
"You certainly know a woman's heart," she said, eyes lighting up. "Thank you so much."
"I'm happy if you are," Gideon replied with a shrug.
Mariela took a bite and closed her eyes, the sweetness spreading across her tongue like a dream. A soft giggle escaped her lips, delicate and carefree. She looked up, cheeks puffed slightly with cake.
Gideon stared for a moment, his gaze softening. Without thinking, he stepped forward and gently patted her head.
"You look so adorable sometimes," he said quietly.
Mariela blinked. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she turned bright red. Gideon, suddenly realizing what he'd done, stepped back quickly. He turned toward the door, his back straight, his posture stiff.
"Just do a good job," he said, voice low. "I know you're capable of it. Good night, my lady."
With that, he exited, closing the door behind him and thought," What am I even doing?"
Mariela sat frozen, heart fluttering. She touched her hair lightly where his hand had been, a shy smile tugging at her lips. Rising slowly, she stepped onto the balcony and gazed up at the stars.
"He's so unpredictable sometimes…" she whispered to the night.
The next morning came quickly.
Lady Tiana stood by the shelves with her usual commanding presence.
"There's a woman coming today to renew her headache tincture," she said briskly. "You'll handle it."
Mariela looked up from her notes in disbelief. "I will? No more… storage?"
Tiana didn't even glance her way. "If you miss it, you can always go back."
"No, no—I'm on it!" Mariela jumped to her feet. "Let's see. Headache remedy… a mix of peppermint and lemon balm, steeped in warm water with half a real lemon."
She bustled about, gathering the ingredients and preparing the herbal infusion as she spoke. When the patient arrived, Mariela greeted her with confidence, handed her the prepared remedy, and explained the dosage with care.
As the woman left, smiling in thanks, two guards rushed in—one of them with a bloodied arm from training.
Lady Tiana glanced at Mariela and gave a subtle nod.
Mariela didn't hesitate. She grabbed clean cloth, water, and the healing herb yarrow. She cleaned the wound gently, applied the crushed plant, and wrapped the injury in a neat bandage.
"With this, you'll be just fine," she said with quiet pride.
The guard offered a grateful smile and waved as he left. Mariela waved back.
Outside the window, Gideon lounged high in a tree, watching it all unfold. A rare smile touched his lips. He was proud.
Inside, Lady Tiana gave a small grunt.
"I suppose you're not useless after all."
Mariela blinked in surprise, she thought: " She thought I was useless?" then grinned. "Thank you."
"Don't celebrate yet. Tomorrow, you'll manage the arrival of the new plant shipments," Tiana said, turning away. "Check them, sort them, and ensure nothing is spoiled."
"Yes, my lady."
"Oh, and one more thing. Make a list of all the medicinal herbs we use for everyday ailments. We'll distribute it to the kingdom's clinics and hospitals."
"I'm on it."
As Mariela scribbled down names and uses—peppermint, lemon balm, yarrow, calendula, chamomile—her mind began to drift.
I wonder if he's alright…
It had been two weeks since Prince Richard departed. She hadn't heard a word from Zephas.
He believed in me when I doubted myself. I want him to see I'm changing. That I'm stronger now.
She stared out the window looking at the sky.
Two days later, the palace air stirred with urgency.
Mariela stood in the physician's chambers, scribbling down the final names of plants used for everyday ailments when the sound of galloping hooves and hurried footsteps echoed through the corridor.
A knock came, fast and loud.
Before Lady Tiana could respond, the door burst open.
Prince Richard entered first, armor dusted in dirt, his cloak tattered from the road. Behind him came soldiers—worn but upright—several with minor cuts and bruises. One, however, was different. A guard leaned heavily on two others, a blood-soaked cloth wrapped tightly around his thigh. His face was pale, his breaths shallow.
"Please!" the prince said urgently. "He protected me from an ambush. A branch—it's still lodged in his leg. He won't make it to the royal hospital without help."
Lady Tiana stepped forward, her expression calm but alert. "This level of injury isn't meant for our chambers. It's the hospital's domain."
"But—" the prince began.
She raised a hand. "I didn't say we wouldn't act. We'll stabilize him enough to get him there alive."
She turned sharply to Mariela. "Fetch clean linen strips, three large sterilized needles, bloodroot tincture, woundwood paste, and the balm of silverleaf. We'll also need heatstone bags."
Mariela was already moving, her voice steady. "Shall I prepare thundergrass poultice to regulate his pulse and grayvine dust to slow the bleeding?"
Lady Tiana blinked, just for a moment. Then nodded briskly. "Good. Bring them all."
The guard was laid on the wide wooden table at the center of the room. His breaths came in rattled gasps. The branch in his thigh pulsed with each heartbeat—a grim reminder that removing it prematurely would cost him his life.
Mariela returned, arms full of supplies, her movements swift and confident. Gideon slipped in through the back entrance, tense but quiet, watching as Mariela knelt beside the patient without hesitation.
"Apply pressure here," Lady Tiana instructed, pointing just above the wound. "Keep him steady."
Together, they worked with practiced urgency. Mariela ground grayvine into powder and sprinkled it around the wound to numb the nerves and slow the bleeding. Tiana applied the woundwood paste to reduce inflammation, while Mariela secured heatstone bags to prevent shock.
"Pulse is stabilizing," Mariela reported.
"Good," Tiana replied. "But the branch stays in. We'll pack around it and brace the leg. He needs surgery, and that's for the royal surgeons to handle."
As they worked, one of the younger guards whispered in awe, "She's just an apprentice, isn't she?"
Prince Richard, standing with arms crossed, his eyes trained on Mariela, gave a faint smile. "Not anymore."
Within minutes, the soldier was ready for transport—alive, conscious, and stable. The medical escort from the royal hospital arrived just in time to carry him away.
Lady Tiana washed her hands in the basin and turned to Mariela. "Well done."
Mariela, still catching her breath, beamed. "Thank you, my lady."
As the room began to settle, Richard stepped closer. "I left for just a few weeks," he said softly, "and already you've become someone they rely on."
Mariela met his gaze, cheeks warm. "You said I had potential. I didn't want to waste it."
A rare softness flickered in his eyes. "You didn't."
From the doorway, Gideon gave a quiet nod, pride gleaming faintly in his eyes.
Lady Tiana, ever composed, raised an eyebrow. "Back to work, everyone. Mariela—go write a full report. Accuracy matters."
"Yes, my lady," Mariela said, her heart still pounding—not just from the emergency, but from the sense that for the first time, she truly belonged.
The pavilion gradually returned to calm after the chaos. Guards were being tended to, supplies were restocked, and Lady Tiana quietly dismissed Mariela to wash her hands and rest.
Mariela stepped out into the corridor, wiping her damp palms with a cloth, her mind still racing from the intense procedure. She sighed in relief—then froze.
At the far end of the hall, near one of the open archways, Prince Richard stood in profile. His posture was relaxed but his sleeve was torn, a dark patch staining his right shoulder.
Her heart jumped. "Wait—he's injured?"
She walked quickly, then broke into a jog. "Your Highness!" she called.
The prince turned, a little surprised. "Mariela?"
She reached him, eyes narrowing at the sight of his shoulder. "You're bleeding. Why didn't you say anything?"
He smiled faintly. "It's just a scratch. Everyone else needed more urgent—"
"No." Her voice was firm. "You're the prince. You should've been checked first."
Before he could object, she took his arm. "Come with me."
They entered one of the empty treatment rooms. She gestured to the seat. "Sit. Remove your coat."
"Mariela—"
"Now, please. Or I'll cut it off myself."
He chuckled and obeyed, slowly pulling off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt. The injury was worse than he admitted—a deep gash along his shoulder, likely from a blade.
Mariela inhaled sharply. "This is not a scratch."
He winced as she touched the area gently.
"I told you it wasn't bad," he muttered, but his breath hitched.
Mariela didn't respond. She'd already reached for her satchel. She ground a cooling leaf blend between her fingers, mixed it with salve, and applied it gently. She felt him tense under her touch, but he said nothing.
"You'll need to drink this," she said, handing him a small cup. "It'll ease the pain."
He took it without protest and drank. She continued working in silence, cleaning and patching the wound with careful hands. When she was done, she looked up—and met his gaze.
His voice was quiet. "You've grown."
She blinked.
"I'm proud of you, Mariela," he said. "You've become someone strong, capable… more than I ever imagined. I should've never left without saying goodbye. I regret that."
Her cheeks warmed. "It's… it's alright. You had duties."
"I should've made time." His eyes lingered on her face. "But seeing you now… I'm glad. You've done so well."
She smiled softly, unable to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. "Thank you."
The evening light slipped through the window, casting golden hues over them.
And for the first time in weeks, Mariela's heart felt light.