Chapter 11

The next morning, a knock at the door stirred her from sleep. It was a servant sent to inform them. "Breakfast will be served in the dining hall. Please be ready," she said before departing.

Soon after, everyone took their seats at the long table, having shared their morning greetings, when the servants arrived with the food.

 Selara, ever animated, nodded approvingly each time a new dish was presented, her excitement infectious as she muttered about how regal everything was.

Rhaine, however, remained quiet, focusing on the simple act of eating. Just as she was about to take her first bite, a servant approached from the far end of the room, balancing a tray with a meticulously prepared dish.

 The servant bowed gracefully as she set the meal before Rhaine. "Please enjoy, Saintess," she said politely, preparing to withdraw.

Rhaine's brow furrowed in confusion. The dish was unmistakably different from what the others were having—a familiar spread of delicacies reminiscent of her homeland. The aroma tugged at bring her back to her hometown.

"Wait," Rhaine called softly, halting the servant. "This is…" She trailed off, unsure whether to continue.

"The General personally instructed the kitchen staff to prepare this, Saintess," the servant explained with a respectful bow before retreating gracefully.

The air around the table shifted. Selara gasped a little audibly, her eyes darting between Rhaine and the general. Murmurs rippled through the gathering as the nobles and attendants exchanged surprised glances. Even the queen arched a brow in curiosity.

The only one who remained completely composed was Kaelion himself. His expression was unreadable, yet there was a softness in his gaze that hadn't been there before.

"So… it's like this." Rhaine awkwardly slumped back into her seat, feeling the weight of countless eyes on her.

Steeling herself, she looked directly at him. "Thank you, General," she said quietly, her voice sincere despite the strange atmosphere.

He met her gaze with a steady calmness, offering a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Then, as though nothing unusual had transpired, he returned to his meal, cutting into his food with the same methodical precision he exhibited in battle.

Suddenly remembering last night conversation with Selara, her eyes widened as she looked at the general trying to decipher the intent hidden behind his stoic demeanor, but he seemed entirely engrossed in his meal, giving no indication that he'd noticed her gaze at all.

The peaceful ambiance should have been comforting, but the tension didn't escape the notice of everyone at the table.

At the far end, the princess's expression darkened, her delicate features twisted into a mask of jealousy and something far more dangerous. Her fingers curled tightly around the stem of her goblet as she stared at Rhaine with thinly veiled malice. It looks like l have to resort to drastic measures, she thought bitterly.

Her lips curved into a slow, unsettling smile.

No one will take what belongs to me.

The remainder of the day was spent with Rhaine and Selara as they made their way through the kingdom, visiting those who were ill, many of whom struggled to afford medical care. The general trailing closely behind them.

The warm afternoon sun bathed the humble cottage in a golden hue as smoke curled gently from its crooked chimney. Inside, the air was thick with the faint aroma of herbs and the faint, persistent scent of aged wood. The sparse furnishings spoke of modest living, yet the space radiated warmth born of familial love.

Rhaine knelt gracefully beside the straw-stuffed pallet where a frail child lay, his breathing shallow but steady. His parents hovered nearby, their faces lined with worry. The mother wrung her hands nervously while the father stood stoically, though the shadows beneath his eyes betrayed many sleepless nights.

Selara perched at a rickety table, quill in hand, poised to transcribe every word Rhaine spoke.

"Your son's fever is persistent but not beyond cure," Rhaine assured them in a soothing tone, her voice carrying a calm certainty. "I've crafted a tincture from valerian root, willow bark, and elderflower. These will help reduce the fever and ease his breathing."

The mother clutched her apron, eyes brimming with gratitude. "Thank you, Saintess. Uh how do we prepare it prepare it?"

Rhaine's expression softened, and she spoke patiently. "First, fetch a clean iron pot. Fill it halfway with fresh water and bring it to a gentle boil over a steady flame. Add the herbs in this satchel—half at dawn and the other half at dusk. Stir it thrice with a wooden spoon, then let it simmer until the water turns golden."

Selara's quill scratched furiously against the parchment as she transcribed the instructions.

Rhaine continued, "Strain the mixture carefully through a cloth. Give the child one ladleful every four hours, but not after the moon rises. Too much can unsettle his belly." She glanced at the worried mother. "Do not sweeten it, no matter how bitter it may taste. Medicine often needs its bitterness to work."

The mother nodded fervently. "Aye, we'll do just as you say."

Turning her attention to the child, Rhaine's voice gentled further. "Do you like stories?" she asked softly.

The boy, though weak, managed a faint nod.

"Good," she smiled. "Think of this medicine as the brave knight who fights the sickness dragon inside you. But you must be strong and drink every drop for the knight to win."

The child's lips curved in a faint smile, encouraged by her kind analogy.

Selara finished the last flourish of her writing and folded the parchment neatly, handing it to the mother. "This will help you remember everything the Saintess said."

The father, his voice rough with emotion, stepped forward. "We ain't got much to repay you, Saintess, but you have our eternal thanks."

"Your child's health is repayment enough," Rhaine replied humbly, bowing slightly in respect. "May he recover swiftly."

As she rose, smoothing the folds of her simple yet elegant robes, her gaze caught Kaelion's figure near the doorframe. His powerful frame leaned casually against the wood, his sharp eyes never leaving her.

He had been watching her, marveling silently at the grace with which she spoke to both the elders and the child. Compassion radiated from her in waves, yet her instructions were precise and wise beyond her years. There was no trace of arrogance in her demeanor—only a genuine desire to heal and help.

Rhaine turned to Selara, her lips curving into a small smile. "Shall we leave now?" Selara nodded eagerly.

Kaelion pushed off the doorframe, following behind them once more. His steps were slow, contemplative, as he watched Rhaine's veil flutter in the breeze.

What do you look like? The question lingered in his mind, unspoken yet insistent. He couldn't help but be curious. Yet, as the thought took root, he found himself strangely at peace with not knowing. For once, it didn't seem to matter. He had seen something far more profound.

Your heart, he thought, the words echoing through him. I already know you're as beautiful as your heart.

And that was enough.

As Rhaine paused to speak softly to Selara, laughter dancing between them, Kaelion's lips curved into a rare, almost imperceptible smile.