Chapter 18
Reporters were still shouting when Richard’s voice cut clean through the chaos.
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“Delete the photos. All of them,” Richard snapped, voice cutting sharper than any blade. “If I see one image surface from this, your press passes are gone. Permanently. Don’t test me.”
There was no room for argument. Just that quiet, dangerous authority that made people freeze mid–breath. Within seconds, phones were being yanked down, lenses lowered. Nathan barked orders to follow up, confirm compliance, and make sure no one slipped out with a shot of me half–frozen in fear beside a collapsed Elder.
Then Richard turned to Beta again. “Get the healer here. Now.”
He didn’t say anything else. Just looked once in my direction and moved off with the same sharp grace he always carried.
I stayed by Elder Thorne’s side, too numb to move. Someone draped a jacket over my shoulders-I didn’t catch who. Emma crouched
next to me, voice low.
“Hey. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
It’s not,” I said. I was still holding the sealed bottle I’d handed out earlier. Like evidence. Like guilt. “It’s not okay.”
Emma glanced around, then leaned in with a low whistle. “You’re lucky. He stepped in personally. Normally something like this would get handed off to Beta or one of the aides.”
“Don’t, I whispered.
What?”
“Don’t say I’m lucky.”
She paused. “Right. Sorry. It’s just… I’ve never seen him protect anyone like that.”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t trust my voice. The noise in the room was like static–murmurs, flashes, hurried footsteps–but none of it reached me. Elder Thorne was still unconscious. My hand was trembling.
“Probably because of Thorne’s status,” I added quickly. “Big deal if something happens to him.”
Still wrong. It hadn’t felt like protocol. It felt like instinct. Like protection. But that couldn’t be right–he barely knew me. I wasn’t anyone to him. Just another subordinate.
1 tried to shake it off. Tried to tell myself he would’ve done the same for anyone else. That if it had been Emma, or Nathan, or even someone new, he’d have reacted the same way. That he wasn’t angry because he cared–he was angry because it looked bad.
But I didn’t fully believe it.
Not when I could still feel the way his eyes had found mine like a command. Not when he’d said now with a sharpness I’d never heard
before.
It hadn’t felt like politics, it had felt like something else.
The crowd hadn’t dispersed–just rearranged itself, like everyone was pretending not to stare while still absolutely staring. Eyes kept landing on me, flicking away when I looked up, like I was something fragile or dangerous or both. I lowered my gaze and focused on breathing evenly, on keeping my hands from shaking, on convincing myself not to run even though every nerve in my body was lit up
like I should
“Turn around, she whispered.
I did.
He was tall–lean, but sharp around the edges, with shoulders that carried more tension than he let on and a face like he’d forgotten how to smile. Sharp eyes and quiet authority as he cut across the crowd like he belonged at the center of it. There was a pause in my brain, like I recognized him but couldn’t quite place it.
And then it clicked.
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Chapter 18
Simon. My neighbor. The quiet one with the hood and the dog and the complete lack of small talk.
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The one I’d brought mullins to. The one whose lost mutt I’d helped find. The one who barely spoke when we passed in the hallway. I turned to Emma, still trying to process the shift in context.
“That’s my neighbor,” I whispered.
She blinked at me. “What?”
“Simon.” I added. “The guy I told you about. With the dog. I didn’t even know he was a healer. Let alone this kind of healer.”
Emma’s mouth fell open just a little. “You seriously need to start reading your neighbor’s resumes.
He moved through the crowd with deliberate calm. No mask this time. No hood. Just that same stillness I was beginning to recognize- the kind that didn’t mean still like quiet. Still like a sword on a table.
The crowd’s murmurs grew louder.
“That’s Simon. The one from the capital.”
“He’s supposed to be impossible to get. Doesn’t even return royal calls.”
Emma hissed under her breath. “That’s your neighbor?”
“I didn’t know,” I muttered. “I had no idea.
He didn’t look at me as he knelt by Elder Thorne, Just snapped his gloves on and took over. The medics stepped back without protest. Simon barked a few quiet orders–clear the space, give him light, quiet.
And people listened.
He worked fast. Precise. There was no drama in it, no flashy spell muscle memory.
or
drawn–out diagnosis. Just years of knowledge condensed into
Within minutes, the Elder’s breathing steadied. Simon checked his vitals again. Then again.
Elder Thome stirred.
By the time his eyes opened, you could feel the shock ripple through the room like a sudden wind.
Gasps Phones rising again.
And Richard was back. His gaze moved from Simon to Thorne to me.
“We need to rule out external toxins,” he said. “Specifically in the water.”
My blood went cold.
Simon turned to me. “You gave him the bottle yourself?”
1 nodded, voice catching. “Yes. From a sealed crate. No one else touched it.”
He held out his hand. I passed him one of the untouched bottles.
He ran the test there in front of everyone. I watched each step like it was the blade of a guillotine.
Then “No wolfsbane. No toxins.”
He said it clearly. Loud enough to echo.
The Elder groaned softly, his eyelids fluttering like it took every ounce of effort just to return to the surface. He blinked slowly. dioriented, then let out a breathy, rattled cough.
“What–he rasped, voice rough with dryness. “Where…
Simon leaned over calmly. “You collapsed. Try not to move yet.”
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The Elder’s gaze wandered the room, taking in the blur of people, then finally settled on Richard. “Again… this damn thing again.”
His voice cracked with irritation more than pain. He struggled to sit up, and Simon gently steadied him.
“Old injury,” Elder Thorne muttered, louder this time. “I told them. I told them. Nobody listens.”
Emma let out a long breath beside me. “That was… too close.”
I nodded.
She leaned closer. “The water never left your hands. If someone tried to frame you, they had to make sure you were the one to hand it over.”
I stared at the sealed crate again, heart hammering.
When the crowd finally cleared, I found Richard at the edge of the field, arms folded, his back to the wind.
“Richard.
He didn’t turn. Not right away. Then he spoke softly, “You don’t have to apologize.“.
A stopped a few paces from him. “I was going to.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Still. I should’ve noticed something. I should’ve been more careful.”
He turned then. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held something tight, like a leash barely being held.
You followed the protocol. You checked the seals. You reported on time.”
I also almost got one of the kingdom’s most influential Elders killed.”
You didn’t
His voice softened just slightly.
“And if someone did try to set you up,” he added, “we’ll find out who.”
1 met his gaze and it held. My breath caught before I could stop it. For a split second, I forgot the weight of the room, forgot the audience, forgot the collapsing Elder and the water and the headlines. All I could feel was the way he was looking at me like he’d memorized me in the dark and was surprised to see me in daylight.
Something heavy passed between us–yes–but it was laced with heat this time. And I wasn’t entirely sure which one of us felt it more.
Then he said, “Get some rest. That’s an order.”
1 left before my voice cracked.
That evening. I knocked on Simon’s door.
He answered almost immediately.
“Thanks again,” I said. “For saving me today”
He raised an eyebrow. “I thought I saved Elder Thorne”
That too.”
He didn’t smile, exactly, but he didn’t shut the door either.
“Dinner? I owe you”
He nodded I know a place”
It was supposed to be normal. Quiet. A break from the chaos Simon had told me about a restaurant he liked–nothing extravagant, just W/4
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Chapter 18
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a tucked–away little place with warm lighting and velvet booths and a soup they made fresh every morning. I’d agreed before I really thought about it, needing something to anchor the day. We were both trying to act like this was a normal evening. Like I hadn’t almost been framed for poisoning someone. Like he hadn’t just saved an Elder in front of a crowd full of cameras.
Finally something normal.
But as we stepped into the restaurant, the hostess frowned. “I’m so sorry–the reservation was accidentally given to another guest with a similar last name. They’re already seated.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
She nodded, apologetic. “They insisted.”
I scanned the room–and froze.
A woman in a sharply cut blazer was settling into the table I’d booked. Already unwrapping silverware.
The hostess stepped forward. “Let me talk to them—”
The woman turned, smile tight. “My guest is far more important. We’re not giving up the table.”
Then her face lit up.
“Richard, you’re here!”
I turned around.
And there he was.
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