The man shook his head, adjusting his spectacles. "No, Your Majesty. I find no evidence of poison in his breath or skin. His vitals are stable."
A collective exhale rippled through the servants.
"Then what caused this?" Serana asked, her voice clipped and strained.
"Fatigue and stress," the physician replied. "His Majesty is not young. He has pushed himself too far in recent weeks."
A muscle jumped in Auren's jaw, but he said nothing.
The queen's gaze remained fixed on the doctor. "Explain."
He drew a small glass vial from the satchel. Inside, a clear liquid shimmered faintly in the candlelight. "Many vampires experience similar collapses when their health is neglected. The strain on the heart increases if they do not rest properly, maintain an adequate blood diet, and consume sufficient nutrients."
He held the vial aloft delicately. "This tonic will help stabilize him."
Serana eyed the liquid skeptically. "What is it?"
"Extract of moonseed and ironroot, along with distilled vitae," he said. "Three drops, twice a day. Combined with a diet higher in fruit and more exercise, it should prevent another incident. I will return regularly to monitor his condition."
"And if he worsens?" Auren asked, voice low.
The physician swallowed. "Then we will pursue more…aggressive remedies."
The queen inclined her head. "Administer the dose now."
He obeyed at once. Pulling a silver dropper from his satchel, he uncorked the vial and leaned over the king's still form. With a steady hand, he eased open the king's mouth and counted three careful drops onto his tongue.
The king did not stir.
The physician closed the vial and turned to the nearest servant, a trembling woman in gray livery. "Prepare fresh fruits and cooled wine. When His Majesty wakes, he must eat."
"Yes, sir," she whispered, bobbing in a shaky curtsy before hurrying out the door.
For a beat, no one spoke.
The queen's gaze swept the assembled servants and lingered on the trembling maid Auren had nearly strangled.
"Leave us," she ordered. "All of you."
The remaining staff dropped curtsies and bows before filing out into the corridor, the last soft footfalls fading to silence.
The physician cleared his throat, casting a final look at the king. "If there is nothing else, Your Majesty…?"
"You may go," she said with regal dismissal.
He bowed so low his spectacles nearly fell from his nose. "I will return by tomorrow evening."
When the doors closed behind him, the queen sank into the carved chair at the king's bedside.
"You two should go," she said without looking up. "There is nothing more you can do here."
Serana dipped her head obediently. "Mother."
She turned to go, her skirts trailing over the polished floor. She did not spare Auren a glance as she passed.
He did not move.
The queen lifted her gaze at last, her expression tired but resolute. "Auren."
He ignored her command and stepped toward the hearth instead. He reached for the servant's bell and rang it sharply.
Moments later, the head chef arrived, breathless, clearly roused from sleep. His round face shone with sweat.
"Your Highness?"
Auren's dark eyes fixed on him like knives. "From now on, the king's meals will include fresh citrus, iron-rich meats, and raw berries. If any dish does not meet these standards, you will answer for it personally."
The chef paled. "Of course, Your Highness. You have my word."
"See to it," Auren said coldly.
He waved him away and turned to the shadows by the door. "Summon the head of the servants."
The guard bowed and vanished.
Within minutes, a tall man in somber black entered, his expression wary.
"My prince," he murmured.
"You will assign your most competent staff to His Majesty," Auren ordered. "From this night forward, he is never to be left unattended, not even for a breath."
"Yes, my lord."
"I expect daily reports."
The steward swallowed. "Of course."
"Go."
The man fled, boots echoing in the corridor.
At last, Auren turned to his mother. She watched him steadily from her chair, her face drawn and weary.
"Now," she said softly, "you may go to bed."
For a moment, he studied her in silence, the lines of exhaustion etched into her usually flawless features.
Without a word, he dipped his head in a brief nod.
Then he left, the door closing behind him with a soft finality.
---
The corridor stretched long and silent as Auren walked alone toward his chambers, his boots gliding over the velvet runner. The events of the night—the king's collapse, the dead maid—lingered in his thoughts. But something else nagged at him, an itch he couldn't ignore.
Just before the steward arrived, he'd sensed it.
A heartbeat.
Rapid. Terrified.
Someone had been hiding, listening.
He paused mid-stride, closing his eyes as he let the scent of fear filter through him. It curled around his senses, warm and oddly sweet. He hadn't planned on tasting any more blood that night. And yet, the memory of that heartbeat made his fangs ache, a hunger that licked along his throat.
He clenched his jaw.
No. He had already fed—more than he should have. He would not indulge again.
With a controlled breath, he pushed the craving down and turned into his chambers. He poured himself a goblet of dark red wine and drank deeply, hoping it would dull the sharp edge of thirst.
---
The dawn bell tolled through the palace as soft gold light seeped across carved columns and embroidered drapes.
Servants slipped down the halls with silver trays, delivering breakfast to each guest. Some visitors lingered in their rooms, savoring the luxurious comforts. Others hurried to leave, eager to return to their estates.
Nysa startled awake at the first knock.
Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs. She sat up on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around herself.
For a moment she forgot where she was.
The palace.
She rubbed her tired eyes and stood. A footman's voice called politely through the door:
.
.
Like it ? Add to library!