Helping Others To Achieve Their Goals

The king's chamber was dimly lit, the faint flicker of candlelight dancing against the golden silk drapes. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs, remnants of the Imperial Physician's visit. His Majesty sat up against a sea of embroidered cushions, his dark eyes burning with an emotion I could not yet name.

Across from him, the eunuch smiled, ever so eager to serve, speaking in a hushed yet reverent tone.

"Consort Noor saw Your Majesty sleeping just now and personally went to the kitchen to prepare your medicine."

The king exhaled slowly, a flicker of something—perhaps tenderness?—crossing his face. He let out a quiet chuckle.

"Any underling could go and do that," he murmured, though the slight softening of his gaze betrayed his words.

The eunuch, ever the courtier, took the opportunity to fan the flames. "But Your Majesty, this demonstrates Consort Noor's deep affection towards you. Even the most devoted consorts leave such tasks to the servants, but she…"

I chose that moment to enter, my silk robes sweeping across the marble floor, the scent of jasmine trailing in my wake.

"What affection?" I interjected smoothly, watching as the eunuch's smile stiffened. I turned my gaze to the king, taking in the slight pallor of his skin. "Your Majesty seems in very good spirits. I assume the Ninth Duke brought you good news?"

The king's expression shifted, a trace of confusion appearing. "The Ninth Duke?"

I tilted my head ever so slightly, feigning innocence. "Yes. I saw His Highness leaving in quite a hurry just now… Do you mean to say that you did not summon him to discuss matters of state?"

The king's brows furrowed. "No."

I widened my eyes, a picture of perfect surprise. "How odd… The Ninth Duke looked as though he had just come from the kitchens."

"The kitchens?" The king's voice turned sharp, and he pushed himself up further, his fingers tightening around the silk sheets.

I pressed a finger to my chin, pretending to ponder. "What would a respectable duke like him be doing in a place like that? Unless…"

His Majesty's gaze snapped to mine, his jaw tightening. "Unless what?"

"Unless he fancies one of the young palace maids who work in the kitchens but feels embarrassed to ask Your Majesty for her hand," I mused, allowing a small smirk to grace my lips.

There was silence—brief but heavy.

Then the king let out a low chuckle, though his eyes remained cold. "Realize his ambition… Heh. I am just worried that his ambition is loftier than a mere palace maid."

I leaned closer, allowing my fingers to graze the sleeve of his robe. "What are you saying, Your Majesty? Ever since you fell ill, the Ninth Duke has been burning with anxiety. He comes to the palace constantly to pay his respects. His devotion to you leaves even me feeling guilty in comparison."

The words were honeyed, carefully chosen. The king exhaled sharply, his fingers drumming against the lacquered table beside him. He was thinking. Calculating.

I stepped back, lowering my eyes respectfully. "Perhaps Your Majesty should investigate. Surely, if Consort Noor is indeed making medicine with her own hands, she would not mind if the entire palace witnessed her dedication."

The king's expression turned unreadable, but I knew I had planted the seed of doubt. He was a man who despised deception, and the idea that someone might be playing him for a fool would gnaw at him like a poison.

I turned towards the doorway, allowing a slow smile to cross my lips.

Let the game begin.