Aiding You

Inside her room, Ava, after changing into her night attire, came in front of the mirror and stood watching her reflection while remembering the scene from before.

"Witch protectors. Purple globe. Decoy," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as her gaze fixated on the deepness of her own eyes.

Her hands clenched the edge of the dresser, tension building in her shoulders. "Felix and Princess Tiara solved the case efficiently. They would make a good team, while I will be here, in this room, just decorating myself to be clueless in front of the state's sensitive affairs."

As the sense of uselessness and jealousy coiled around her like a suffocating mist, she shook her head vigorously, trying to dispel the storm in her mind.

Letting out a deep sigh, she picked up the purple pouch from her dressing table, her fingers brushing its soft, smooth fabric as she opened it. Sliding her hand inside, she pulled out a small, round, purple ball-like medicine. It was the medicine that she took daily before going to bed. Slowly, she raised the medicine toward her mouth, her lips parting slightly—but then, the door to her room suddenly flew open with a loud bang.

Her hand stopped in mid-air as the sound startled her.

Turning quickly toward the door, her heart began to race. The sight in front of her made her freeze, a mix of shock and fear flooding through her.

It was Felix.

He was barely able to stand, leaning heavily on the doorframe. His once neat and tidy costume was now drenched in blood, and his breathing was ragged. She froze for a moment, her mind racing, before snapping into action. She put the purple medicine ball back to the pouch, placed it back on the dressing table and rushed toward him.

"My lord, how did this happen?" she asked, her voice tinged with panic, as she slid her arm around his waist. The metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils as she wrapped his arm over her shoulders to support his weight.

"Just a little... unfortunate incident," he replied, his voice low and unsteady, with a strained attempt at calmness.

After gently lowering him onto the mattress, she straightened up, brushing her disheveled hair from her face. "I will go call a physician," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument, and she turned to leave.

However, before she could take a step, Felix's cold, trembling fingers wrapped around her wrist, halting her mid-motion. The touch was weak but desperate, a silent plea that froze her in place.

"Wait, don't," Felix whispered, his voice barely a thread of sound, strained and faint. His pale face glistened with sweat under the flickering lamplight, and his half-lidded eyes carried an exhaustion that tugged at her chest.

"What do you mean? You are bleeding!" she exclaimed, looking back to face him. Her brows knitted together in frustration and worry, her breath quickening as she searched his face for an explanation. The sight of him, so vulnerable and yet stubborn, sent a rush of conflicting emotions through her.

"You will not be able to find a physician at this late hour," he replied, wincing slightly as he shifted his weight. His voice was slow and measured, each syllable a labor of effort. "And I would prefer not to disturb my father for this. He will worry for no reason."

"But this is a reason to be worried." She argued. "You need to get—"

"I have had lots of wounds like this," he interrupted, his lips curving into a faint, almost teasing smile despite the pain. "I am a warrior, remember? I know how to treat them. But I will need your help, if you will."

"Of course I will," she said without hesitation, her voice firm despite the quiver in her fingers. "Tell me what I have to do."

"Okay," he said, letting out a slow, shaky breath. "It's not that hard. All you need to do is boil some clean, long strips of cotton cloth. White would do great. While it's boiling, make a turmeric paste and search for wine or vinegar. Bring them all in, and I will do the rest myself."

As soon as she could, Ava prepared everything Felix had asked for, her heart thundering with every hurried step she took. When she returned, she carried a large tray laden with the supplies.

"Here it is," she said, placing it beside him on the bed.

"Thank you," he said with a weak smile and then began to unbutton his vest. His movements were slow, each tug on the buttons pulling at his wound and making him wince. He clenched his jaw, determined not to let the pain stop him.

"No," Ava said, the word coming out sharper than intended as she watched him struggle. "This won't work." Shaking her head, she gently pushed his hands down, her touch firm yet careful.

Without a second thought, she leaned forward and began unbuttoning his vest herself, her fingers deft yet trembling.

Felix's eyes widened slightly as he watched her, unsure whether to feel alarmed or amused. "Wha–what are you do-doing?" He stammered, his voice laced with nervous disbelief. 

"I'm helping you," she replied briskly, her focus entirely on the buttons, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"I–I can do it—" he mumbled, his hand twitching toward the buttons again, but she smacked his hand away with a light, decisive slap.

"Don't! You are just wasting time," she said, her cheeks flushing faintly from a mix of frustration and determination.

Felix blinked rapidly, completely thrown off by her boldness. The woman who barely dared to meet his gaze had just smacked his hand. It was an utterly unexpected moment, one that left him speechless.

After opening his vest, she unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his bare upper body, and as she saw his bleeding, rugged, and bare chest glistening under the dim light of the room, the realization sank into her. He was half naked and it was her who undressed him.

She looked up at him but then instantly lowered her eyes, unable to meet his. Shyness drowned her completely, making her heart race faster than a war horse, yet she somehow managed to put her hands to work.

Despite the flush rising to her cheeks, she pressed on, her hands steady as she cleaned his wounds. The scent of wine mingled with turmeric filled the room as she applied the cool turmeric paste with care, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin.

"Wha–what should I do now?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur as she stepped back, still unable to meet his gaze. "Should I cover it with the sterilized cloth?"

He took the wine bottle and savored the last few sips before finally responding.

"No," he said, his voice softer now, the faint tremor from earlier gone. "Let the cloth and turmeric paste dry for a while," he added, his tone calm and steady. "Then, you can cover the wound with the sterilized cloth."

------

Ava was in a dark room, enveloped by an all-consuming blackness. The silence was suffocating, the air thick and still, until suddenly, like a spotlight descending from the heavens, a single beam of light fell upon her. She flinched at the sudden brightness, her eyes stinging as they struggled to adjust.

As the light softened, she blinked, and the world around her began to take shape. To her shock, she found herself surrounded by a crowd, their faces shrouded in shadows, their eyes fixed on her. The weight of their gaze was unrelenting, cold, as if they were waiting for something—judging her in eerie silence.

Then, suddenly, a gust of wind swept past her, curling around her legs, and with it came a whisper—soft, yet obnoxious.

"Ava…"

The name echoed in her ears, sending a shiver through her body.

Ava gasped, her breath sharp as she was yanked from the dream. Her eyes shot open. The oppressive darkness was gone, replaced by the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. She blinked, disoriented, her heart hammering in her chest and her leg feeling a faint current of numbness due to sitting on the floor for a long time.

Last night, after tending to Felix's wound, she had fallen asleep at the edge of the bed, her head resting on the bed while her body lay on the cold floor. Though Ava was now back in reality, it felt as if her dream wasn't ready to let her go. The whisper followed her again, this time in reality, lingering in the air like an invisible thread tying her to the haunting vision.

"Ava…"

Her skin prickled, every fiber of her body responding to the eerie sound that seemed to reverberate in her very bones. It wasn't just a memory of the dream—it was as though the whisper was still alive, as if something unseen was calling out to her from the shadows.

A knock on the door came, followed by a female voice, "Madam."

"Madam," it called again.

"Madam," the voice, along with the knock, came louder than before, sharp enough to break through her disquiet and root her back in reality.

"Yes," she rasped, swallowing hard as she looked toward the door and pushed herself up. "Coming."

As she opened the door, it revealed Dorothy, her maid, standing with a tray of a tea kettle and cups. Dorothy's brow lifted in amusement as she leaned slightly closer. "Looks like somebody had a very good night," she teased, her lips curving in a sly smile.

"No. Actually, quite the opposite," Ava replied before she took the tray with trembling hands and quickly shut the door. She had neither the patience nor the energy for idle chatter.

She placed the tray on the tea table and approached the bed to wake Felix. "My lor—" she began, her hand reaching out to shake him awake, but it halted mid-air. Tension and worry etched across her face. 

Felix's face was pale, and sweat clung to his skin. His lips had turned white with a faint hint of purple, and though he was asleep, his body trembled uncontrollably, as if he were stranded on Mount Everest wearing the thinnest attire imaginable. 

Ava's breath hitched, her hand trembling as she continued to reach out to him, a gnawing dread settling in her chest like a heavy weight. 

"Felix," she called softly, shaking him lightly. When he didn't respond, her voice grew more urgent. "Felix," she repeated, this time shaking him with slightly more force. 

Her panic mounted as the realization of his condition sank in. "Oh God, Felix!" she cried, shaking him vigorously now, her movements frantic. Tears streamed down her face, cascading like relentless rainfall and blurring her vision, as fear tightened its grip on her heart.