Chapter 8

"Please, don't ever leave without telling me again, okay?" Winston's voice was choked with emotion, his chest trembling, and his heartbeat thundered in my ears.

I leaned against his shoulder, my eyes wide in shock.

"I promise I won't leave. But I'm just your servant, you don't need to be like this..." I said softly.

Winston finally let go, realizing he'd lost his composure. His cheeks turned crimson, and he stammered nervously, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take advantage of you..."

I couldn't help but laugh at how flustered he looked.

"I know, it's just a friendly hug, nothing more," I said.

Winston's gaze froze for a second. He stepped forward, stumbled, and fainted straight into my arms.

I caught him and reached out to touch his forehead. It was burning hot, almost scorching my fingertips.

He was burning up.

I was not going anywhere after all.

If I wasn't here, Winston would probably die in this palace, and no one would even care enough to bury him.

With the plague still raging outside and chaos everywhere, even if I managed to escape the palace alone, there was no guarantee I'd make it to the border to see Nelson.

Besides, Nelson would be coming to the palace in five years anyway.

So I'd just wait for him here.

Winston's fever raged for three days. In his delirium, he clung to my sleeve, refusing to let go. The words slipping from his lips weren't about his parents, nor Rae. It was just a faint, mumbled "Zora."

My hand, mid-wipe, froze in the air, my heart giving a little jolt.

He actually called me by my real name.

Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was some invisible thread between us. As I looked at his youthful, delicate features, all the coldness and stubbornness of his adult self had melted away, leaving only a fragile softness. I couldn't bring myself to feel even a hint of resentment.

All these years in the palace, I'd been his queen, just a shadow of Rae, listening to him call out for someone else, guarding an empty harem. I never imagined that, as a boy, he would depend on me like this.

I brewed a herbal remedy for the plague, blew on it to cool it before feeding him. He scrunched up his face and pushed it away, mumbling about how bitter it was. I had to coax him, promising him a baked sweet potato if he drank it.

Only then did he finally give in and open his mouth. Some of the medicine lingered at the corner of his lips, and as I wiped it away with a handkerchief, he instinctively turned his head and nuzzled my fingertips, just like a docile kitten.

Seeing him like this made me think of the adult Winston. He would never show this kind of weakness. Even when he was sick, he'd just sit alone in the Everlasting Hall, staring blankly at Rae's memorial portrait. He'd brush away any medicine I offered, saying, "Queen, there's no need for your fake concern."

After three days, Winston's fever finally broke. When he woke and saw me asleep by his bedside, his ears flushed red. He gently draped a blanket over my shoulders, not realizing I was already awake. With my eyes closed, I listened to his awkward movements, and a soft warmth spread through my heart.

I told Winston about the silver coins, thinking he'd be furious. But he just glanced at the bag and said, "Whoever's behind this hired killers and tried to cover their tracks. They won't show themselves, and they certainly won't reveal you're not Rae. Just keep the money. It's yours to use."

He spoke so lightly, but every word was quietly protecting me.

I held the silver coins, its cool touch lingering on my fingertips. Suddenly, I remembered the grown-up Winston. Even if he saw me as a stand-in, he never let me endure the palace's ordeals. The harem stayed empty for three years; that was his way of preserving my honor.

Back then, I thought he simply missed Rae and didn't want anyone else to disturb the harem. But now, looking back, perhaps there were feelings I never noticed.

The plague at the border was quickly brought under control thanks to the remedy Winston had provided. Edmund went to the border himself to handle things, and when he returned, he earned great merit. The king named him the Prince of Peace, and his reputation soared.

What really made my heart sink was that he brought back a witch named Elsa Christ, who was skilled in both medicine and ritual spells.

She was a middle-aged woman whose left leg had a slight limp, living in a small courtyard on the west side of the palace. The place was packed with racks for drying herbs, and the scent lingered in the air. To my surprise, she was the very same witch who, in the third year of the Era of Prosperity, had performed the secret ritual for Winston; she looked exactly as I remembered.

Making up an excuse, I hurried over to her courtyard and called out, "Elsa."

She turned around, with a touch of aloofness in her gaze. When she saw me, she gave a slight nod. "Miss Rae from Tranquil Waters Hall?"

I walked up to her, my eyes landing on the mortar beside her. I asked softly, "You trained under shamans, didn't you? Have you ever heard of a ritual that lets someone go back in time?" My voice grew more excited. "Not just the soul, the whole body, too."