Chapter 3

I looked up sharply and saw the guards dragging my mother into the hall. Her hair was disheveled, and there was blood at the corner of her mouth.

"I'll ask you one last time," the King said, slowly pacing toward my mother and holding a knife to her throat. "Will you use the boy-turning ritual or not?"

Blood was already trickling down the blade. My mother shook her head desperately at me, tears streaming down her face.

Thunder roared outside the hall. On my knees, I crawled over and hugged my mother tightly, my voice trembling as I said, "I... I will do my utmost to assist Her Majesty with the ritual."

The next moment, the guards tore us apart and forcibly hauled my mother away.

The King settled back onto his throne, his voice gentler now. "My word to you remains unchanged."

That very day, an imperial edict announced me a physician at the Imperial Medical Bureau, responsible for the Queen's unborn child.

As the doors of the Queen's palace slowly opened, the scent of roses filled the air.

I looked up and met a pair of smiling eyes. The young man looked about seventeen or eighteen, his features as if they were carved from marble, and his eyes shining like stars.

"Are you the new physician?" he asked, his voice clear and gentle.

It wasn't until a maid tugged at my sleeve that I snapped out of my daze.

The maid whispered, "That's Prince Adrian."

I bowed respectfully, and by the time I looked up, he was already walking away in the distance.

When the Queen heard about the King's arrangement, she seemed taken aback, her demeanor distant and aloof, as if she had no intention of going through with the ritual.

I couldn't blame her. What mother wouldn't wish to see her child live a long, full life?

After the consultation, a maid led me to the Imperial Medical Bureau.

Charles Grant was already waiting for me. He was the physician responsible for the Queen's well-being.

"Dr. Shaw, please have a seat," Charles said, pouring me a cup of tea and handing me the Queen's medical records.

I flipped through them carefully and saw that the Queen had suffered two miscarriages before, but her pulse readings showed no major problems.

Charles hesitated for a long moment before finally asking, "Will this ritual... endanger the Queen's health?"

I shook my head. "It absolutely won't, you have my word."

Charles seemed to relax, poured me another cup of tea, and smiled. "Then I'll leave it in your hands, Dr. Shaw."

From then on, I prepared the special medicine for the Queen's ritual every day.

The servant sent by the King would stand guard, watching closely as the Queen drank every last drop before hurrying back to make his report.

The rest of the time, I was free to do as I wished.

One day, I stuffed the money I'd saved into my pocket and made my way to the jail, hoping a bribe would get me in to see my mother.

"You think this little bit of cash is enough?" The guard weighed the pouch, then his voice shot up. "Get lost before I rough you up!"

I yanked the silver hairpin from my hair and thrust it at him, but he shoved me back hard. "Scram!"

I landed hard on the ground, skinning my palms.

Just then, a pair of hands steadied me and helped me to my feet.

When I looked up and saw who it was, I quickly bowed. "Greetings, Your Highness!"

The guards around us bowed as well.

Adrian pulled me behind him. "This is Dr. Shaw from the Medical Bureau. I need her to accompany me inside to see a prisoner. Please make way."

The guards immediately stepped aside. "Please, Your Highness!"

Adrian bent down, picked up the silver hairpin I'd dropped, and slipped it gently back into my hair, smiling at me.

When my mother saw me in the cell, she was both surprised and delighted. I checked her over carefully. Thankfully, there were no new injuries.

"The palace is full of schemes and intrigue," my mother said, gripping my hand tightly. "You have to be careful. Don't let yourself get dragged into the palace's power struggles."

I nodded. "Don't worry, Mother. Once the Queen gives birth to a prince, we'll be together again."

After leaving the jail, I gave Adrian a deep, respectful bow. "Thank you for your help, Your Highness."

He helped me to my feet and said softly, "The Queen treats me as if I were her own child. Just look after her and the baby well. That's all the thanks I need."

His eyes were soft and clear, like a tranquil spring.

But then I remembered what my mother had just said, and a subtle sense of unease stirred in my heart.

Two months had passed, and withdrew my trembling hand, my heart sank. The child in her womb was still a girl.

The ingredients were exactly right: mugwort picked at dawn, a century-old wild ginseng, snow-in-summer, and three drops of the King's blood.

The charm drawn in cinnabar burned beside the medicine pot, its ashes falling straight into the brew.

"How could this happen...?" I muttered, feeling myself caught in the same predicament my father once faced.