After the trials had officially concluded, Ed and I made our way to the cathedral’s infirmary, with Owen bringing up the rear as my stalwart bodyguard. As we left the venue, Prince Gilbert and the emperor, who had lent their support to me by witnessing the entirety of the trials, left behind their well-wishes as they departed to attend to other matters.
How is Flora faring? The thought nagged at me incessantly as we hurried down the corridor. Could her injuries have worsened? Could new symptoms have appeared? I reminded myself that Teodore was there to handle anything that might have happened, but even the knowledge of his presence couldn’t quell my anxiety. Her injuries had been so severe, requiring every last drop of my power to heal. Could the nature of her affliction be so abnormal that it defied conventional understanding? There were no assurances to cling to.
As my brow knit into a frown, Ed did his best to reassure me. “You needn’t look so worried, Lina,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be all right.” He gently stroked my head in reassurance as we came to a stop before a pristine white door. “Ah, we’re here,” he observed.
Ed’s announcement rang with a degree of redundancy when faced with the “Infirmary” placard that graced the door, but even without the clear label, the faint smell of disinfectant seeping through into the hallway was confirmation enough. Now that I was here, my worry about facing Flora surged. Concern for her mingled with a knot of awkwardness in my stomach. The selfish reason I had saved her gnawed at my conscience, filling me with guilt. Do I have to go in? Perhaps it would be better if Teodore just gave me a report instead?
Torn, my hand stopped short of the door. Yet before I could decide, a much more decisive—not to mention much larger—hand swept past mine, knocking firmly on the sturdy wood.
Ed?! What are you doing? I’m not ready!
“Prince Edward Ruby Martinez, here to check on my sister-in-law Flora Sanchez,” he said, utterly oblivious to my inner turmoil. Admittedly, that’s because I didn’t give voice to my feelings, but still! Oh, why must I dither so? I’ve done nothing wrong—objectively, I saved a life. What do I have to fear?
With that bit of self-scolding, I straightened up and tried to muster a semblance of composure. Almost immediately, the sound of movement came from behind the door. Then, a slightly muffled “Come in,” spoken in a mellifluous tenor that I knew all too well.
Why was he granting us entry? Where were the other healers the high pontiff had promised? Ed and Owen exchanged glances, seemingly sharing my question. Deciding that the answers must lie within, Ed grabbed the doorknob and opened the door.
A spotless white space unfolded before us. Despite its size, the large infirmary felt slightly cramped, outfitted with over ten beds fitted with clean white linens, as well as a few medicine cabinets lining the walls. After a moment of admiring the immaculate tidiness of the room, my eyes drifted to the bed where Flora lay. Teodore was leaning against the windowsill with a startling casualness, unexpectedly accompanied by my handmaiden Marisa. (I supposed she was here for propriety’s sake.)
I began with the most pertinent question. “Where is everyone? The physicians and the healers His Holiness sent for?”
Teodore straightened up and chuckled. “I dismissed them,” he said in an offhand way, “so that they might return to their regular duties—and I could focus on mine. Too many hands in the pot, as they say.”
The glint in his eye told me he had his own agenda, and I knew better than to attempt to pry into it. I responded with a noncommittal “Is that so?” and turned my attention to Marisa. Acknowledging her with a nod, I moved to Flora’s bedside.
“How is she?” I asked. Her complexion seemed much better, no longer as pale as a ghost, but I still wanted Teodore’s expert opinion.
Owen moved chairs so that Ed and I could settle comfortably beside my sister, and Teodore waited until we were seated before replying. “Lady Flora is, to be brief, on the mend. Save for obvious weariness and slight anemia, her health is sound. Owing to Your Highness’s intervention, her vital organs sustained minimal damage. The healing was so thorough that my assistance was hardly needed. Well done,” he added, crinkling his eyes in praise.
That was high (and embarrassing!) adulation coming from the most accomplished mage of our generation. I gently pressed my hands to my heating cheeks, relieved that Flora was going to be all right.
“It’s fortunate she will recover,” Ed said, “but what brought about her condition in the first place? Is it some grave illness?”
This was an excellent question, and Teodore seemed to think so too. His expression hardened, eyes dropping slightly as he brought a hand to his chin in thought. It seemed to me that he must have a theory, but perhaps not enough proof to say it with confidence.
Observing Flora lying in repose, I reflected on her symptoms today. Her pale skin, the fact that she had been coughing up blood, her stubborn behavior (though that was Flora all over and so may have not been due to what had been ailing her): This all pointed to some unnatural affliction. I had no proof either, just a gut feeling that something was ominously amiss. Inadvertently, I caught Teodore’s gaze.
“Before I answer that question,” he began, “I’d like to ask Her Highness this: Princess, in healing Lady Flora, did it feel like your Divinity was rather...ineffective?”
A gasp escaped me, as if he had plucked the thought straight from my mind. My certificate and scepter—which I had hardly been aware of still carrying—slipped from my hands in sheer shock, but Owen’s swift reflexes saved them before they hit the ground. I felt a surge of relief, especially for the delicate scepter. He offered to take responsibility over my spoils for the moment, and I responded with a quick, rigid nod.
After thanking him, I faced Teodore once more. “Yes... My powers felt wholly ineffectual. I succeeded in healing her, but it drained me of everything I had. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say there was some force actively resisting me, but that... That couldn’t be. Could it?”
I tried my best to describe what was, at its core, a vague and subjective feeling, but Teodore seemed to grasp it immediately. “I see. Regrettably, I had hoped you would prove me wrong, Your Highness, but alas...” He sighed deeply and turned his gaze to Flora, his eyes softening with what looked like genuine pity. It struck me then how deeply dangerous Flora’s plight must have been to draw such compassion from this sadistic lordling. It highlighted the severity of the situation to an almost alarming degree. Even Ed, with all his frustrating and potentially dangerous antics, had never evoked such a worried expression on Teodore’s face.
Teodore swept his gaze across all of us. “Before I divulge my hypothesis, I must make myself abundantly clear. I possess no concrete proof to substantiate my claims, only educated guesses drawn from my own observations and Her Highness’s testimony. Bear this in mind before you proclaim my conclusions as incontrovertible truths. Let us proceed with caution and discerning minds.”
But despite his words of caution, there gleamed, in stark contrast, unwavering conviction in his eyes. Lord Teodore—always the master of hedging his bets.
Ed and I exchanged looks, then nods, then returned our attention to Teodore and replied in unison, “Understood.”
Is it just me or was the reveal rather being milked for its suspense? I thought, feeling that familiar sensation of being on pins and needles from the blond lord’s theatrics.
Teodore exhaled a long, drawn-out breath. “It is my opinion that Lady Flora’s condition stems from having dabbled in...mana manipulation.”
Mana manipulation? Ed and I exchanged confused glances, our heads tilting in puzzlement. The term didn’t immediately ring a bell, but as I sifted through my memories, I recalled a side note in imperial history about a now-extinct civilization developing a novel spellcasting technique some centuries ago. They had been conquered by Malcosias before they had been able to complete their research, which had then been promptly suppressed and forbidden. But this only added to the confusion. What did a partially developed, presumably lost technique from centuries ago have to do with Flora’s poor health?
Teodore’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Your Highness, might I inquire as to your level of knowledge when it comes to mana manipulation?”
“I’m aware that the research delved into methods of amplifying the power of mages and spellcasters, but my knowledge ends there,” I admitted. “Beyond the historical context, I’m afraid I’m rather ignorant of the technique itself or its working mechanism.”
This was in actuality a rather belabored way of saying I didn’t have a clue, but Teodore only replied with a noncommittal “I see” and nodded his head. “Allow me, then, to explain the technique. However, given the paucity of knowledge on the subject, be mindful that I shall interweave my own suppositions to supplement the known facts.”