บท 22: Lion Cub
Viella bowed her head. Indeed, as fragile and thin as he was, Caspian looked like a prince and held himself like a prince, carrying a sense of grace and dignity.
Although Viella guessed he should be feeling happy or relieved—knowing he could be saved from his sickness—he did not show a tinge of emotion, despite being so sure he would owe her his life.
"To the Prince of the Empire, my name is Viella Ivelle. I am an aspiring herbalist, and I may be able to save you. But I am unsure… I have my doubts… so please don't speak with so much certainty. It burdens me," Viella requested with all the honesty in her heart.
Having all the experience of lying and withholding the truth, then suffering the consequences of her actions, Viella was now weary of her words.
Caspian looked at her for a few seconds, then blinked. "My mother speaks to me with so much certainty, as if this very day I can start running and even wield a sword. How come you, the aspiring herbalist, are not sure?"
With so much certainty? Viella swallowed.
"It is just my speculation, Prince Caspian. I've shared my worries with the High Lady of the Empire about the possibility that… you could die. I don't know if my medicine can help with blood poisoning. I think it's just for deadly wounds," Viella said honestly.
Although she didn't have much knowledge of medicine, she knew enough to realize that poison was something entirely different.
Drinking something that would ultimately mix with his blood—the one thing she feared most was the reaction of the two materials suddenly meeting.
Death was, of course, the worst-case scenario, but it still needed to be said.
Surprisingly, the prince's lips bloomed into a smile that was not quite a smile. "Thank you for your honesty. No, the High Lady of the Empire did not tell me of such a possibility. But you have my permission to continue, even if it means risking my life," he answered, his stoic expression betrayed by the pain visible in his emerald eyes.
Viella approached the prince, her mind remembering what the High Lady of the Empire had said—that death was a better state than this.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized how cruel and heartless it was. In her heart, she pitied the prince.
She hoped the potion would grant him freedom.
"How did you create such medicine?" the prince asked, his eyes curiously looking at the sparkling gold liquid in the glass bottle.
"Do you want to know the truth?" Viella asked, meeting Caspian's gaze. He nodded, seeming interested.
"It was my master who made it," Viella confessed, referring to Raden as her master in the absence of a more suitable term.
She held the bottle in her hand, ready to feed it to him, but he raised his hand to stop her, more interested in what she had to say.
"Considering he is your master, did he teach you how to recreate it?" he asked.
"No. I never finished my education," Viella answered, keeping the same lie.
"Why didn't you finish your education? Had he died?" Caspian asked, leaning back against his large white pillow.
Up close, Viella couldn't help but notice his long lashes and beautiful features. She tried not to look.
"No. He gave it to me to make sure I survived my journey," Viella explained, closing the lid to the bottle, fearing she might spill it by accident.
"Are you looking for something?" Prince Caspian asked. "If I survive and am cured of my illness, shall I help you look for it?" he offered, a kindness similar to his uncle's. High General Aaron had been kind to her, righteous, and generous. But meeting two kind people in one day? Viella did not trust her luck.
"It's a 'he.' I'm looking for his nephew," Viella answered, leaving out the crucial detail of him being her supposed fiancé. Wasn't his act of severing their binding spell indication enough that he also did not want the engagement?
"Uncles seem to rely on you to save their nephews," Caspian joked, which made Viella chuckle.
"It seems so. You know, if you want to speak to me further, you can do so after drinking the medicine. Otherwise, I'm going to think this is your attempt to delay," Viella reminded, seeing his gaze fall to the white sheets of his bed. She could see he was going through emotions, desperately trying to hide his feelings behind an unmoved demeanor.
"I do want to speak to you further. But do you want to know the truth?" he asked, meeting her gaze once again, unblinking and vulnerable.
"I'm afraid. But you should be too," Caspian said. Viella's lips parted, catching the warning in his words.
"Can you please speak plainly? What do you mean, I should be afraid too?" Viella asked, leaning closer to him. Instinctively, her voice lowered to a whisper, as if no one was supposed to hear what they were talking about.
"Think about it, herbalist. The High Lady of the Empire brought you here to cure a prince without consultation of any sort or notifying the Emperor—an act of waywardness. She didn't tell anyone, not even me, that there was a possibility of death. She even left you here… alone… with me… when she knew her son could die. Doesn't that raise suspicion for you?"
Caspian asked after laying out the facts for her. All of a sudden, the little details of her encounter with the High Lady of the Empire resurfaced, completing the picture for her.
Viella stood up, stepping back as the realization pierced through her rapidly beating heart. She had just arrived there, and if Prince Caspian died, she would have been framed.
"I… I have to go…" Viella said, quickly packing her belongings. But before she left, she looked at the prince, whose sorrow was now clearly written on his face.
"I suppose this is goodbye," Viella said, running out of the prince's bedroom as if someone were chasing her.
She didn't wait for the prince to answer, nor did she close the door on her way out.
Her heart beat loudly in her chest, having escaped the horrible fate of being killed by a Mordath, only to walk into a lion's den.
As her steps slowed, the thought of the prince being the High General's nephew made her realize he might refuse to hold his end of the bargain if she did not comply.
But the risk of being destitute compared to being framed for treason was an obvious choice. She would rather be homeless than die.
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