The tension that had gripped Iryna’s chambers finally began to dissipate. The lifeless gray tint that had settled over her face disappeared, leaving behind the first signs of healthy color.

She remained deeply asleep, breathing steadily now, as though the danger had never been there at all.

Standing near the edge of the bed, Gillian watched his sister with a heavy mixture of relief and absolute disbelief. The sheer weight of the last hour pressed down on his shoulders, making the luxury of the palace feel more like a golden cage than ever before. He slowly turned his head to look at Marielle, who stood a few paces away with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"To pull someone back from the very brink of death like that..." Gillian said. "What a truly terrifying, great power to possess."

Marielle didn’t turn her head immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on Iryna’s peaceful expression, a fond but fiercely guarded look flashing through her eyes. She let out a quiet breath, her posture softening just a fraction.

"Yes," Marielle responded. "Our little healer. He really is something else, isn’t he? But... exactly like he said before he left, Prince Gillian. We must not tell another living soul about this. Not the mages, not your people, and certainly not the King."

Gillian nodded slowly, his expression turning serious. "You have my word, Lady Marielle. I won’t let a single word about Lord Cherion’s abilities reach anyone. A power like that... it would destroy him if the wrong people sought to control it."

"Exactly," Marielle said, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper. "So we make sure they never know. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, the High Priest’s prayers were answered, or Iryna’s body fought off the poison. Cherion was never in this room."

"He has my silence," Gillian vowed. "And my absolute protection. I owe him my sister’s life."

Silence settled over the chamber once more. The only sounds were the soft crackle of the fireplace and the distant footsteps of the guards patrolling outside. The palace remained under a strict, absolute lockdown, with every exit sealed and every guard unit on high alert.

Gillian shifted his stance, his sharp eyes taking in the subtle lines of exhaustion tracing Marielle’s face. The panic of the poisoning had taken a toll on everyone, and though she was putting up a strong front, her shoulders were visibly tense.

"The danger has passed, and the guards I trust have established a perimeter," Gillian said gently, his tone shifting from royal formality to genuine concern. "It’s safe enough now. You can go back to your quarters and rest, Lady Marielle. You’ve done more than enough tonight."

Marielle let out a soft scoff, shifting her weight but making absolutely no move toward the doors. She leaned her shoulder lightly against the bedpost, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "It’s fine. I want to stay here. Besides, I am only even able to stand in this room right now because of you."

Gillian tilted his head, a silent question in his eyes.

"Think about it," Marielle continued. You explicitly went out of your way to ask the King to let me stay by Her Highness’s side."

She paused, stepping away from the bedpost to look directly into Gillian’s eyes. "I didn’t ask why earlier because of all the worry, the danger, and the absolute panic. There simply wasn’t time. But now that things have calmed down... why did you do it, Your Highness? Why did you insist on keeping me here?"

Gillian didn’t flinch under her direct gaze. Instead, a faint smirk played on the corners of his lips, breaking the rigid tension of his royal composure. "Isn’t it simply because you wanted to be here? I merely facilitated your wishes, Lady Marielle."

Marielle crossed her arms tighter, completely unamused by his deflection. She stepped closer. "What makes you think that way? In a palace of this magnitude, everyone is an immediate suspect. The kitchen staff, the attendants, the guards... even the guests. Aren’t you afraid that I might have been the one who did this to her?"

Gillian’s smirk faded. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his eyes. He looked past her, his eyes locking back onto his sleeping sister.

"I highly doubt that," Gillian replied smoothly, his voice completely devoid of hesitation.

Marielle blinked, taken aback by his confidence. She watched him quietly for a moment. "You speak with a great deal of certainty, Prince Gillian. Almost recklessly so. What makes you so certain that I am innocent?"

Gillian let out a breath and looked at his sister, the reality of what had happened settling over him once more.

"Because whoever did this... was good," Gillian whispered, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed the terrifying reality of the situation. "They were precise, meticulous, and completely silent. They managed to slip an incredibly potent, untraceable poison past three separate layers of royal food tasters and the wards surrounding the royal wing without leaving a trace."

He slowly turned back to face Marielle, looking her directly in the eye.

"And you, Marielle," Gillian spoke, his voice carrying a quiet amusement that cut through the lingering dread, "are far too loud when you dislike someone. If you wanted to harm my sister, you would have challenged her to a duel or thrown a glass in her face in front of the entire court. You don’t have the patience for poison."

Marielle froze for a fraction of a second before letting out a sudden, startled laugh, the sound breaking the suffocating gravity of the room. She shook her head, a genuine smile breaking through her exhaustion. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment, Your Highness."

"Take it however you wish," Gillian replied, his tone turning dead serious once more as he looked toward the tall windows overlooking the locked-down palace grounds.

"The fact remains," Gillian murmured. "Whoever targeted my sister tonight knows exactly what they are doing. And they are playing a much bigger game than you think.""