Stirring awake, I saw the Marquess seated beside me. His face was haggard, and worry lines were etched deeply into his brow. The moment he saw my open eyes, he enveloped me in a tight embrace, and relief flooded his features.

"Thank heavens," he whispered hoarsely. "Eamon, fetch the physician at once!"

Eamon nodded obediently and slipped out of the room, pausing only to cast one last relieved glance at me before disappearing through the door. I watched him go, feeling a twinge of guilt for the tumult I had caused.

"I'm so sorry for worrying you," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Nonsense," the Marquess replied firmly, shaking his head. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Moments later, Eamon returned with the physician in tow. The doctor, a middle-aged man with gentle eyes, examined me with nimble fingers and a keen eye. After a thorough checkup, he stood back with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Remarkably, she'll make a full recovery," he announced. "The poison was neutralized in time, and her wounds are healing well. Rest is all she requires now."

A collective sigh of relief filled the room as the physician gathered his things. The Marquess, looking more composed now, nodded to Eamon and the doctor. "I must see to some matters, but I'll be close by," he said, leaving the room with a meaningful look toward the young attendant.

Once everyone else had left, Eamon approached my bedside and took my hand, holding it between his own. His eyes were glassy, tears threatening to spill over. "I was so afraid... that you wouldn't wake up," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

"What happened after I lost consciousness?" I asked, curiosity burning through the soreness that enveloped me.

"The knights apprehended the assassin and brought you straight to your room," Eamon explained, squeezing my hand gently. "The estate physician was summoned, but he didn't recognize the poison on the assassin's blade. So, the Marquess called for healers from the palace. Thank goodness he did. You've been unconscious for nearly three days, Luci."

My eyes widened in surprise. "I can't believe palace healers came all this way."

"Not just the healers," Eamon added, a shadow passing over his features as he continued, "Prince Leandro came with them too."

The revelation made me sit up in bed, causing a wave of aches to spread through my body. Eamon quickly pushed me back down. "You have to be careful, Luci," he admonished gently.

"I suppose Prince Leandro wanted to see if his newest pawn would make it," I remarked sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

Eamon looked at me thoughtfully. "He looked genuinely concerned when he saw you, Luci."

Not wanting to dwell on the prince, I turned my thoughts to more pressing matters. "Who could have sent the assassin?" I inquired, the gravity of the situation settling upon me like a heavy cloak.

"They're still investigating," Eamon replied, his expression turning grave. "But I have my suspicions..."

"Who?" I pressed, meeting his gaze.

"Who would gain the most from your death?" Eamon echoed, his azure eyes darkening with the weight of unspoken thoughts, but I understood his implication too well.

Just as I was about to delve deeper into Eamon's thoughts, the door to my bedroom creaked open. Elara stepped in, carrying a tray of toast and porridge. Luciana immediately noticed the young maid's red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands.

"The physician advised that you eat something, my lady. You’ve been without food for three days," Elara said softly.

I nodded and glanced at Eamon. "Help me sit up, please." With Eamon's support, I settled into a comfortable seated position.

Elara approached the bed, her hands shaking so much that the spoon clattered against the bowl. I tried to take a bite, but it was nearly impossible with Elara's trembling hands. Finally, I gently took Elara’s hands in mine, offering a comforting squeeze.

"I’m fine now, Elara," I said, my voice soothing.

At my words, Elara’s tears spilled over, and she began to sob. "I should have been here with you. If only I had finished my dinner sooner and returned, you wouldn't have been hurt."

"Don’t think that way," I replied firmly. "I told you to take an early night to rest. None of this is your fault."

Elara tried to compose herself, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "I promise I'll never leave you alone again," she vowed.

My heart ached at the promise. I knew Elara’s words were meant to reassure me, but they only brought unease. The assassination attempt likely wouldn't be the last, and I couldn't bear the thought of the sweet, young maid being caught up in the dangerous power plays of the court.

With Elara’s presence in the room, I couldn’t continue my discussion with Eamon about the assassin’s employer. We exchanged a knowing glance, silently agreeing to revisit the topic later.

For the next two days after waking up, I focused on recovering. Elara and Eamon were at my side, diligently ensuring I ate and rested. It wasn’t until the third day that I was able to get out of bed on my own.

"Still sore?" Eamon asked, his voice laced with worry.

"Less than yesterday," I replied, offering a half-smile that didn't quite reach me eyes as I walked over to the mirror to look at the state of my appearance.

The palace healers had done a fantastic job at neutralizing the poison and healing the stab wound, but their abilities had limits. I learned this as I stared at the bruises on my neck, the deep purple now turning green at the edges. They stared back at me from the mirror, a stark reminder of the attack. The muscle aches were another matter; the physician had told me that I would have to heal those on my own through rest.

Despite my gratitude for their help, I couldn’t help but wish I could use my magic to heal myself completely. But with more people by my side, I couldn't risk exposing my secret. I sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and relief. I walked over to a table by the window where Eamon had just finished setting up tea.

"Good. You need to be strong, Luciana." Eamon's gaze was unwavering, a stark contrast to the softness that often played upon his features.

The formerly open courtyards beyond the window were dotted with vigilant figures swathed in steel, their gazes as penetrating as the spears they carried. At each entrance, pairs of silent knights stood guard like living statues, their eyes sweeping for any hint of danger.

"Isn't that a bit much?" I interrupted, the words spilling out laced with frustration I hadn't intended to reveal.

"Considering someone tried to end your life, I'd say it's hardly enough," Eamon countered firmly. I sighed at the truth of his words. I understood they were there for my protection but felt that I had no privacy anymore, especially since being appointed a personal knight.

Sir Gavriel Thorn, clad in his pristine emerald uniform, was a man whose very stance demanded attention. His cobalt eyes, reminiscent of the deep sea, betrayed nothing but focused alertness. Locks of sable hair framed a face chiseled from the same stone as his resolve. His square jaw seemed perpetually set in disapproval, especially when Eamon dared to step beyond the invisible boundaries of station and etiquette.

"Pray tell, Sir Gavriel, since when does helping the lady adjust her shawl constitute a breach of decorum?" Eamon's voice dripped with sarcasm as he deftly maneuvered Luciana's shawl without waiting for the knight's leave.

"Your familiarity borders on insolence," Sir Gavriel retorted, his voice a low rumble, "Remember your place."

"Enough!" I snapped, my green eyes flashing with ire. "While you're in my service, Sir Gavriel, stuff your classist remarks in a sack and toss them into the nearest well."

Sir Gavriel's jaw tightened, the muscles there working like the gears of a clock winding up for a grand strike. A noble himself, he found such remarks distasteful, but it was his duty to bow to the whims of the lady he was sworn to protect—even if it meant swallowing the bitter draught of humility.

The door to my chamber creaked open, and in came Elara, looking much more cheerful than she had when I had first woken up. She was pushing a cart brimming with prettily packaged boxes. I knew precisely what they were: care packages from the nobles. The Marquess had managed to keep my assassination attempt a secret, spinning a tale that I had fallen ill with a cold and needed several days of rest. Naturally, the nobles, all eager to win the favor of the new heir, had sent packages and gifts filled with medicines, elixirs, and teas supposedly beneficial for my "cold."

I hadn't tried any of the items, though I was fascinated by the so-called elixirs. I was mainly annoyed at receiving the packages because it meant I would have to write letters thanking each sender for their thoughts.

"Store them with the rest of the stuff," I said, not bothering to open the new arrivals.

Turning my piercing gaze to Sir Gavriel, I sought answers that seemed as elusive as shadows at dusk. "And what of the investigation? Has any light been shed on who sent the assassin?"

Sir Gavriel met my inquiry with a furrowed brow. "It's... complicated, Lady Luciana. Regrettably, the assassin chose death over revelation, leaving us clutching at smoke." There was a solemn timbre to his voice, a note of frustration etched deep within.

"Any possible suspects?" I pressed, an edge creeping into my tone.

"Unfortunately," he replied, his tone as guarded as the secrets he kept, "that information must remain cloaked for now—for your safety and peace of mind."

"Peace of mind?" I scoffed, my laugh brittle as frost. "That fled five days past, alongside the knife from my shoulder."

Pain flickered across the knight's features as he had been the one to find me, crumpled like a fallen leaf amidst the tomes and parchment of the library. "Even if I desired to share more, my lady, I am bound by orders. The head of the investigation insists on the utmost discretion."

A chill slithered down my spine as realization struck— my grandfather was holding me at arm's length, keeping me ignorant of the very danger that had nearly claimed my life. But why?

"Eamon, have you uncovered anything about the Vesper Summit in the library?" I asked. Though I was still unsure of my ability to sway any crucial votes, I figured it was worth looking into while I was still on bed rest and had a small reprieve from my tutoring and debut.

"Nothing yet, Luci." Eamon's answer was swift, his eyes meeting mine with a shared sense of urgency. "But I will continue the search."

The mention of the Vesper Summit sliced through the silence of the room like a dagger, drawing a startled look from Sir Gavriel. "Why would you need to know about that?" he demanded, his gaze piercing me with a mixture of confusion and caution.

"It came up during my audience at the palace," I replied calmly, my curiosity piqued by the sudden storm clouding his features. "Rumor has it that the summit might be revived."

"Revived?" The word escaped him like steam from a kettle, his voice low but seething with incredulity. "To think they'd dare to resurrect such an affair."

My intrigue bloomed as I watched anger flicker across the knight's stern visage, but what was most curious was the look on Elara's face too. She looked uncomfortable and scared.

Turning back to Sir Gavriel, I asked, "You seem familiar with it. Would you enlighten me?"

He eyed me for a moment, his expression hardening into a mask of duty. "The Vesper Summit," he began, his words deliberate and heavy with significance, "was an ancient accord meant to maintain harmony between Aurorea and the Shadow Territories—Galdoria, as those beyond our lands call it."

I listened intently, my curiosity piqued.

"It was held every twenty years," he continued, his voice steady. "The heirs of noble houses were summoned to represent their lineage, and to act as representatives of peace for the Kingdom."

His gaze was intense, as if willing me to grasp the gravity of his words. "The Summit wasn't just a diplomatic event. It was a delicate dance between light and shadow."

"Sounds noble enough," I mused aloud. "Why, then, does the mere thought stir such fury in your eyes?"

Sir Gavriel's fists clenched visibly, and when he spoke again, his voice vibrated with barely contained wrath. "Because, my lady, should this farce proceed, we will be forced to consort with beasts, to break bread with the savages of the Shadow territories for a full season." His disdain for the Galdorians was palpable, a venom that tainted his every syllable.

I recoiled slightly, taken aback by his intensity. I opened my mouth, ready to delve deeper into his prejudice, when the sharp rap of knuckles on wood cut me off. Hawthorne entered, carrying with him an air of urgency along with a parchment sealed with wax.

Even before I broke the seal, I recognized the royal emblem pressed into the violet wax—a rampant lion encircled by stars. Breaking the seal, I unfolded the letter, my eyes scanning the elegant script. A groan escaped my lips, the contents of the letter striking me like a physical blow.

"What's wrong, Luci?" Eamon queried, leaning in with concern etched upon his face.

"Prince Leandro has stated he will visit me in two days. He’s worried about my health." I revealed, my voice wavering with incredulity. The room fell silent, the weight of my words sinking in.

I turned to Eamon, desperation in my eyes. "How can I decline the prince's visit?"

Eamon was at a loss for words while Sir Gavriel stiffened as if bracing against an unseen blow.

"My lady," Sir Gavriel warned, "you cannot simply turn away a prince."

"And why not?" My words were laced with sarcasm, a touch of rebellion igniting within me.

"Only grave illness might delay a royal visit. Yet, in your case, the Prince is no stranger to the truth of the assassination attempt. And lying to a royal is not only unwise but seen as treason in Aurorea." Sir Gavriel added.

I rolled my eyes, exasperation seeping into my voice. "He must want to make sure his new pawn isn't too broken to still be used for his schemes."

"Careful, my lady," Sir Gavriel cautioned, his voice a steel trap of formality. "Even walls have ears when it comes to speaking of royalty."

I brushed off his warning with a wry smile. "Oh, lighten up. It’s not like I’m plotting a revolution."

Turning back to the letter, I sighed. "I guess I’d better prepare for his visit. It looks like I don’t have much of a choice."

Elara, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. "Maybe he’ll bring some fancy remedies from the Royal Healers for your 'cold'."

I smiled, appreciating the attempt at levity. "Let’s hope they’re better than the ones I’ve been getting."

With a resigned smile, I began to think of the true reasons for Prince Leandro's visit.