To heal a Rogue

LYSANDER

Bradley’s expression barely changed.

"Likely the same thing he told you. I am sure you know by now that Alpha Cornelius was infertile, and that Johann was born of another man entirely."

The words still sounded strange when spoken aloud. Not because I didn’t know them. But because they had once been the sort of thing that could destroy a kingdom if spoken in the wrong room.

Bradley folded his hands behind his back.

"It is a controversial truth. I... understand why your uncle, goddess bless his soul, chose not to turn it into a public spectacle. Even at the end of his life, an Alpha keeps his pride close."

"I imagine tongues would have wagged regardless."

"Of course." His mouth tightened faintly. "Thankfully, propaganda spreads easily, and Johann makes it remarkably simple for people to believe the worst of him without much prompting."

He paused.

"I was tasked with quietly circulating doubt about his suitability. Nothing overt. Nothing that could be traced back to the Crown. The intention was simply to make you a more palatable choice once your name was put forward as heir."

"So you helped prepare the kingdom to accept me."

"I helped make the transition easier."

"Is it easy though? My dear cousin constantly challenges it."

"I noticed. But it is nothing drastic yet. We will deal with that if it ever reaches that stage. We just have to wait for the time to come."

I studied him.

"Is there a reason you’re pressing me on all of this tonight, Your Majesty?"

"I think you already suspect what I’m getting at."

Bradley waited. He definitely knew something. But chose to stay quiet for whatever reason was best known to him. Probably to prevent the ideas of treason in my own head.

So I bit. "Johann had a hand in my uncle’s death. I know you know it."

His face remained unreadable. "We cannot operate on assumption alone. Only hard fact should guide us."

"He’s tried undermining me multiple times now. I won’t insult either of us by pretending otherwise." My voice hardened as I continued. "I have more than enough reason to believe he’s behind the rogues gaining access to this estate twice in two days. Maybe those are assumptions. But I know you suspect it too, whatever your official position requires you to say aloud."

For the first time, Bradley glanced toward the door.

When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

"I do suspect foul play."

He looked back at me.

"It’s precisely why I’ve already begun quietly investigating both him and Queen Edelina."

My brows drew together.

"Now that you mention it, I haven’t laid eyes on her since my uncle’s death. Is she truly that ill?"

"She’s ill." Bradley hesitated. "But that’s not the whole story."

I waited.

"Cornelius had subtly excommunicated her before he died. Nothing formal enough to cause a scandal. Nothing that would prevent her from appearing publicly, since he never shamed her outright."

His gaze darkened.

"And yet... she hasn’t come. Not once. It is fascinating to think about."

"Perhaps because she’s too sick?"

"Perhaps."

He gave me a measured look.

"But I know she’s still capable of showing her face if she wishes to."

The implication settled between us.

Edelina wasn’t merely absent.

She was choosing to remain absent.

Bradley straightened.

"You needn’t carry all of this yourself tonight, Your Majesty. I intend to see it resolved."

He bowed and left.

I watched him disappear through the doorway.

As he crossed the corridor, he passed a woman coming from the opposite direction. She was dressed entirely in black, her dark hair falling loose around her shoulders. Even from where I was, I noticed her eyes.

An unusually vivid cornflower blue.

They seemed almost unnaturally bright beneath the dim corridor lights.

Bradley exchanged a few words with her. Whatever he said made her laugh, a soft, easy sound that seemed strangely out of place in a palace where someone had nearly died less than an hour ago.

Then Bradley disappeared around the corner.

The woman continued toward my room.

The healer entered first, with the stranger trailing behind her.

The woman bowed immediately upon entering.

"Hello, Your Majesty. My name is Willow," she introduced herself. "From the witch house of Shelter. It’s my pleasure to serve the royal family."

I wasn’t entirely certain how one was supposed to respond to that sort of formal deference, so I settled for a small nod.

"Thank you."

Her attention shifted to Bonnie.

"Is this her?"

"Yes."

"May I begin?"

"Of course."

Willow set her bag beside the bed and opened it.

She worked quickly, pulling out several small glass vials and cloth pouches before arranging them on the bedside table. Her fingers moved with the practiced ease of someone who had performed the same ritual many times before.

She measured a dark powder into a shallow dish, added several drops from one of the vials, then stirred the mixture with the end of a small wooden stick.

The liquid changed almost immediately.

It became translucent, then faintly luminous.

When Willow seemed satisfied with the consistency, she dipped her thumb into the compound and leaned over Bonnie.

I watched as she pressed it gently against the center of Bonnie’s forehead.

A faint shiver passed through Bonnie’s body.

"What is that?" I asked.

Willow glanced at me.

There was faint amusement in her expression, as though she’d expected the question.

"A spiritual compound," Her thumb remained against Bonnie’s skin. "It allows me to follow whatever trail was left behind during the attack."

The amusement disappeared from her voice.

"If there is anything to find, I should be able to find it."

My attention sharpened.

"Anything?"

"Who touched her. What kind of magic was used. How it entered her."

She paused.

"And, if we’re fortunate, who sent it."

The room seemed to grow quieter.

I looked at Bonnie.

Then back at Willow.

"So it’s magic," I said, unnecessarily, if only to break the silence gathering around us.

"That is what I am here to find out. But I believe so... Yes."

Willow’s thumb remained against Bonnie’s forehead.

"And it’s clearly astral in nature. An attack conducted through the dreaming rather than the waking world. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing."

My gaze moved between Willow and Bonnie once again.

"Who do you think is stronger?" I asked.

My question caused her to give me a sharp look, but for me, that was a necessary question. So I continued to ask.

"You or whoever did this?"

Willow laughed softly. There was enough confidence in the sound that it should have reassured me. Instead, it made me more uneasy.

"You clearly don’t know much about us Shelters, Your Majesty. We’re a prominent bloodline. If this were the work of a Blossom witch, I might expect some genuine resistance." Her mouth curved. "But anyone else? I doubt very much they’d give me trouble."

She closed her eyes and then sighed. "I intend to trace this back to its source. If you’d like, once I’ve confirmed who’s responsible, I can return the favor." Her fingers tightened slightly against the dish. "You know. Harm them in kind."

"Do it."

Her eyes opened in surprise.

I doubled down anyway. "Kill them, once you’re certain."

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