Kael's POV
Three Days Earlier (Before Maya's Arrest)
"Your Highness, you need to see this."
Commander Theron bursts into my study without knocking—something he only does during emergencies. I look up from the financial reports that show my kingdom bleeding money faster than I can stop it.
"What now?" I ask wearily. The poison coursing through my veins makes everything harder. Every breath is effort. Every heartbeat painful.
"It's the traitor. Lady Elara Thornwood." Theron's face is strange. Confused. Almost excited. "She's alive."
My quill snaps in my hand. "Impossible. She should be dead by now."
"She should be. But she's not only alive—she's performing miracles in the slums."
"Miracles." I stand up too fast and have to grip the desk as dizziness hits. "Explain."
"Yesterday, Old Nan's grandson was dying from an infected wound. Black rot, spreading fast. The boy had hours at most." Theron pulls out a small notebook. "This morning, he's running through the streets, completely healed. The infection is gone."
"Healers can—"
"No healer did this, Your Highness. Lady Elara did. And not with prayers or potions." He flips through his notes. "She boiled water. Made some kind of cleaning substance from animal fat and ash. Spoke about invisible creatures that cause disease. Then she cut away the dead flesh and packed the wound with specific herbs."
My chest tightens—not from poison, from something else. Fear? Interest? "That's insane."
"That's what I thought. So I sent three more guards to watch her." Theron meets my eyes. "In two days, she's treated forty people. Infections, broken bones, a difficult childbirth. Every single patient survived. Things that should have killed them."
"Every one?" That's impossible. Even the best physicians lose patients.
"Every single one. And she's teaching them things." He reads from his notes: "Boil water before drinking. Wash hands before touching food or wounds. Keep waste away from water sources. Simple things that sound crazy but apparently work."
I pace to the window, trying to process this. Lady Elara Thornwood was a soft-spoken noblewoman who served me poisoned wine and destroyed my life. Gentle. Terrified during her trial. Broken when we threw her away.
This woman Theron describes sounds like someone else entirely.
"What else?" I ask.
"She's drawing plans. Complex diagrams for devices to filter water, improve farming, even redesign cooking areas to prevent fires." His voice drops. "Your Highness, I'm not educated in these matters, but the things she's sketching—they look like engineering. Advanced engineering."
"A noblewoman who knows advanced engineering." I laugh bitterly. "And I'm a dragon. Commander, this makes no sense."
"Nothing about her makes sense. But the slum dwellers are calling her the Miracle Lady. They worship her." He hesitates. "And the Royal Council has heard the rumors."
Of course they have. The council misses nothing.
As if summoned by thought, my door slams open. High Chancellor Mordecai sweeps in with five other council members, all looking grave and excited—a combination that means trouble.
"Your Highness," Mordecai begins in his oily voice, "we must discuss the witch in the slums."
"She's not a witch," I say automatically, though I'm not sure why I defend her.
"She performs impossible healings. Speaks of invisible demons. Corrupts good people with strange teachings." Lord Blackwood—Damien, Elara's former fiancé—steps forward. "This is clearly dark magic. We must burn her before she poisons more minds."
Something about his eagerness bothers me. "You testified against her at trial. Said she was gentle and harmless. Now she's a powerful witch?"
Damien's eye twitches. "I... I was fooled by her act, Your Highness. Clearly she hid her true nature."
"Or maybe your testimony was false." I watch him squirm. "Maybe Lady Elara never poisoned me at all."
The room goes silent. Mordecai recovers first: "Your Highness, you collapsed immediately after drinking wine she served. The evidence—"
"The evidence was her serving wine someone else prepared. We never found who actually mixed the poison." I feel the puzzle pieces shifting in my mind. "What if we condemned the wrong person?"
"Impossible!" Lady Seraphina Thornwood—Elara's cousin—pushes forward, tears in her eyes. "I saw Elara with suspicious herbs! I testified under oath!"
"You testified to save your own skin," I say slowly, understanding dawning. "You poisoned me. You and Damien together."
The accusation hangs in the air. Seraphina's tears dry up instantly. Damien's hand moves toward his sword.
"Careful," Theron warns, his own hand on his weapon.
Mordecai laughs smoothly. "Your Highness, the poison is affecting your judgment. Lady Elara was convicted by proper trial—"
"A trial that happened in one day. With convenient witnesses. And evidence that appeared at perfect times." I look at each council member. "How much did they pay you to rush the verdict?"
Mordecai's smile never wavers. "These are dangerous accusations, Your Highness. Made by a dying man who grows more paranoid daily. Perhaps we should discuss your succession—"
"I'm not dead yet." I lean forward, ignoring the pain in my chest. "And I want Lady Elara brought to me. Alive. Unharmed."
"She's a witch—" Damien starts.
"She's the only person who might actually cure me!" The words explode out. "Every physician in this kingdom has failed. My own council wants me dead so they can install a puppet ruler. But this woman—this supposedly gentle noblewoman—is performing medical miracles that defy explanation. So yes, I want to see her. I want to know how she does it. And if she really did poison me, I'll execute her myself. But if she didn't..." I look at Seraphina and Damien. "Then we'll find out who did."
Mordecai's smile finally falters. "Your Highness is unwell. Perhaps rest—"
"Get out." I point to the door. "All of you. Except Theron."
They leave reluctantly, whispering among themselves. Plotting, no doubt.
When the door closes, I slump in my chair. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"
"Not if Lady Elara is as brilliant as she appears," Theron says quietly. "Your Highness, I've been watching her carefully. She's not performing magic. She's using knowledge. Real, practical knowledge that actually works. If she could cure a dying child with infected wounds, maybe she can cure you."
"Or finish what she started." I touch my chest where the poison burns. "But I'm out of options. Bring her to me. Tonight. Quietly. If the council learns I'm meeting with her, they'll have her killed before she reaches the palace."
Theron nods and turns to leave.
"Commander?" I stop him. "You believe she's innocent, don't you?"
He's quiet for a moment. "I believe she was set up by people who wanted her destroyed. Whether she's innocent of the poisoning? I don't know. But I know genuine desire to help people when I see it. And that woman in the slums? She's saving lives like it's her purpose for existing."
After he leaves, I sit alone with my thoughts and my poison.
If Elara is innocent, I condemned a good woman to death for a crime she didn't commit. Threw her into the slums to be beaten and broken. Destroyed her life because I was too blinded by pain to see the truth.
If she's guilty, then she's the most talented liar I've ever met.
Either way, I need her.
I pull out the strange metal badge Theron found in the alley where Elara nearly died. The writing still makes no sense: "MAYA CHEN - SENIOR ENGINEER."
Who is Maya Chen? What's an engineer? And why does a medieval noblewoman have a metal badge from nowhere I've ever heard of?
A knock interrupts my thoughts. Theron returns, looking troubled.
"Your Highness, we have a problem."
"What now?"
"Someone poisoned the public well in the slums. Five people are dead—all recently treated by Lady Elara. The crowds are turning against her. They're calling her a witch who curses everyone she touches."
No. This is too convenient. Too perfectly timed.
"It's a setup," I say immediately. "Someone is poisoning her patients to frame her again."
"Lord Damien found a vial of poison in her medical supplies. He's bringing it here now, demanding her arrest for witchcraft." Theron's jaw clenches. "Your Highness, if you don't arrest her, the council will say you're bewitched too. But if you do arrest her—"
"She dies. Again. For crimes she probably didn't commit. Again." I slam my fist on the desk. "This is exactly what happened before. False evidence, convenient timing, accusers who benefit from her death."
"What do you want me to do?"
I think fast. If I refuse to arrest her, the council might move against me. I'm weak, dying, vulnerable. But if I arrest her publicly while secretly investigating...
"Bring her in," I say finally. "Make it look like a normal arrest for witchcraft. Throw her in the dungeons. But put her in the cell next to the Mad Prophet."
Theron's eyes widen. "Your Highness, the Mad Prophet isn't mad—"
"Exactly. She'll talk to Elara. Test her. And if Elara is who I think she is, they'll have a very interesting conversation." I stand, ignoring the pain. "Meanwhile, I want you to investigate Lord Damien and Lady Seraphina. Quietly. Find out what they're really after."
"And if the council demands Elara's execution?"
"Delay it. Claim we need time for a proper witchcraft trial. Claim I want to interrogate her personally. Whatever it takes to buy time." I meet his eyes. "Because if Lady Elara Thornwood really is innocent, and really does have knowledge that could save this kingdom, I will not throw away that chance to satisfy a corrupt council."
Theron salutes and leaves. I'm alone again, staring at the mysterious badge.
Tomorrow I'll arrest the woman who might be my poisoner or my savior. I'll throw her in a dungeon and watch what happens.
And if she passes the Mad Prophet's test—if she really is what I suspect—then everything changes.
Because the Mad Prophet isn't mad at all.
She's a time traveler who's been warning me for years that more would come.
And her real name is Dr. Sarah Chen.