CHAPTER 7
1686 Words
Emilia didn’t move immediately. Her gaze stayed fixed on Queen Mother Alira’s face, but her mind was no longer in the room.
It replayed the details she had just noticed, over and over again, refusing to settle. Something was wrong. Not slightly wrong. Completely wrong.
Behind her, Draven’s voice cut through the tension, low and controlled.
“Prepare everything. She moves to the hospital within the hour.”
Doctor Halden nodded, already issuing quiet instructions to the nurses and the young female doctor beside him.
The room shifted into motion, people moving with urgency, but Emilia remained still, her thoughts sharpening instead of calming.
‘Ulcer. Internal bleeding. Surgery.’
‘No. That wasn’t it.’
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides as her instincts screamed louder. She had seen cases like this before, studied them, memorised them, lived in them. And this didn’t match.
Before she could stop herself, her feet moved. Slowly, carefully, Emilia stepped closer to the bed.
She barely noticed the way the room quieted around her, or the subtle glances exchanged between the guards and the maids. Her focus narrowed completely to the woman lying unconscious before her.
Alira looked peaceful at first glance. That was the first thing that felt wrong. Emilia reached out, but a firm hand wrapped around her wrist.
Her breath hitched as she looked up.
Draven stood beside her, his grip not painful, but unyielding. His storm-grey eyes locked onto hers, sharp and questioning. There was something dangerous in them now, something restrained and tightly coiled.
“What are you doing?” His voice was low, edged with warning.
Emilia swallowed.
Up close, she could see it clearly now. The tension in his jaw. The way his shoulders were set was too rigid. The storm beneath his composure.
He was holding himself together by force.
“I just…” Her voice faltered for a second, then steadied. “I need to take a closer look at her.”
The room shifted again.
One of the maids exchanged a glance with a guard. Another lowered her gaze, pretending not to listen. The tension thickened, pressing in from all sides.
Draven didn’t release her immediately. His eyes searched her face, as if trying to decide whether she had crossed a line or not.
“You heard the diagnosis,” he said quietly. “The doctors are handling it.”
“I know what they said,” Emilia replied, softer this time, careful with her tone. She could feel the weight of everyone watching. “But something doesn’t feel right.”
A flicker of something passed through his eyes. Doubt.
It was there for only a second before it disappeared behind control.
“You’re not a physician here,” he said. Not harsh. Just factual. “And this isn’t the time for guesses.”
That should have been enough to stop her. But it didn’t.
Emilia took a small step closer, lowering her voice so only he could hear.
“I’ve… learned things before. About sickness. Cases like this.”
The lie pressed against her chest, uncomfortable and necessary all at once. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Not yet.
“I don’t remember everything,” she added carefully, “but I remember enough to know that this doesn’t look like what they said.”
Draven’s gaze hardened slightly.
He studied her in silence, weighing her words against logic, against reason, against everything he had just been told.
Letting her do this would be risky. Not letting her might be worse. His jaw tightened.
Then, without a word, he released her wrist. The shift in the room was immediate.
“Everyone out,” Draven ordered.
The command was calm, but absolute. No one questioned it.
The maids bowed and hurried out. The extra guards followed, their footsteps quick and quiet. Even the young female doctor hesitated for a second before turning and leaving with the others.
Only one guard remained behind.
Draven didn’t look at him. “Stay.”
The man nodded once and the door closed. Silence settled heavily in the room.
Emilia exhaled softly, a tension she hadn’t realised she was holding easing slightly.
“Thank you,” she murmured, offering Draven a small, genuine smile before turning back to the bed.
This time, she didn’t hesitate. Her focus sharpened completely.
She reached for Alira’s hand first. It was cold. Emilia’s fingers pressed lightly against the queen’s pulse point, her brows drawing together.
It was too slow.
She shifted, lifting Alira’s wrist slightly, examining the faint discolouration beneath the skin. Then her gaze moved to the woman’s feet, visible beneath the sheets.
Pale. But not just pale. There was a faint grey undertone. Emilia’s heartbeat quickened.
She leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair away from Alira’s face. Her fingers gently tilted the queen’s chin upward, studying the lips, the slight dryness, the almost invisible darkening at the edges.
Her breath caught.
No.
Her hand moved to Alira’s eyelids, lifting one carefully. The sclera. Not yellow or red. Something else. A faint, almost unnoticeable dullness.
Emilia’s chest tightened.
She swallowed hard, her mind racing now, piecing everything together rapidly.
Lastly, the mouth.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second before gently opening Alira’s lips. There.
Her stomach dropped. A faint metallic tint. Subtle. But unmistakable.
Emilia stepped back. Her heart was pounding now, loud in her ears. This wasn’t internal bleeding. This wasn’t an ulcer. This was—
She turned toward Draven.
He hadn’t moved from where he stood, but his eyes were locked on her, watching every movement, every expression. Waiting.
“What is it?” His voice was quieter now. Sharper.
Emilia took a breath.
“She’s been poisoned.”
The words hung in the air, heavy.
Draven didn’t react immediately. For a second, his expression didn’t change at all. Then, slowly, something shifted. Not panic or anger. Shock.
“Are you certain?” he asked.
Emilia nodded, her voice steadier now despite the storm inside her. “Yes.”
She stepped closer to him, lowering her voice slightly.
“The colour of her blood when she coughed it out would have been darker than normal. Her pulse is slower than it should be for internal bleeding. Her extremities are pale, but not in the way they would be from blood loss.”
Draven’s gaze didn’t leave her face.
“She doesn’t show the signs of an ulcer rupture,” Emilia continued. “And if she’s given standard medication for it… It could make the poison spread faster.”
A flicker of something dangerous crossed his eyes.
“Meaning?”
“She could die.”
Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Then Draven turned sharply toward the guard.
“Bring them back,” he ordered.
The guard didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Alpha.”
The door opened and closed quickly.
Emilia’s pulse quickened. Now that the words were out, doubt crept in.
‘What if she was wrong? What if this backfired? What if—’
The door opened again.
Doctor Halden entered first, followed by the young female doctor. She was composed, but her eyes flickered briefly toward Emilia before settling back on Draven.
“There’s been a change?” Halden asked.
Draven’s voice was calm. “She has something to say.”
He didn’t look at Emilia, but the weight of his words landed squarely on her.
Emilia froze for a second. Then she realised. He wanted her to repeat it. Out loud in front of them.
Her chest tightened. If she was wrong, this wouldn’t just be embarrassing. It would be worse. Much worse.
But if she stayed silent… Alira could die.
Emilia straightened slightly, forcing herself to meet their gazes.
“She hasn’t suffered internal bleeding from an ulcer,” she said.
The room went still.
“She’s been poisoned.”
The young female doctor’s expression tightened immediately.
“That’s a serious claim,” she said, her tone controlled but firm. “On what basis?”
Emilia held her ground.
“The discolouration of her extremities. The slowed pulse. The metallic tint in her mouth. The absence of abdominal rigidity consistent with an ulcer rupture.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You’re making assumptions without proper tests.”
“I’m making observations,” Emilia replied, her voice calm but unwavering.
A flicker of tension passed between them. Draven didn’t interrupt.
Doctor Halden stepped closer to the bed, his expression thoughtful now. He didn’t dismiss her outright. Instead, he began checking the signs she had mentioned.
The room fell into silence again. Seconds stretched. Then Halden’s brows drew together. His hand paused on Alira’s wrist.
He checked again. Then again.
The shift in his posture was subtle, but undeniable. When he looked up, his expression had changed.
“She’s right.”
The words landed like a strike.
The young female doctor stiffened. “That’s not…”
Halden cut her off, his tone firm now. “It’s not an ulcer.”
He turned to Draven. “This is consistent with toxin exposure.”
Silence exploded in the room.
Draven didn’t move. But something in him shifted completely. The air around him seemed to darken.
“Can you treat it?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
Halden hesitated. Emilia stepped forward.
“I can.”
All eyes turned to her. Draven’s gaze locked onto hers again.
“How long?” he asked.
Emilia’s mind raced.
Morning. Collapse at sunrise. The type of poison. The progression.
Her stomach tightened.
“We don’t have long,” she said. “Until sunset at most.”
That did it. Draven turned to the guard.
“No one enters this room without my permission,” he ordered. “No one.”
The guard nodded sharply. “Understood.”
Draven looked back at Emilia.
“Come with me.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and walked out. Emilia followed.
The moment the door closed behind them, the tension snapped.
She exhaled deeply, her shoulders dropping slightly. She had been right. Just once.
But instead of relief, something else crept in.
‘Who would do this? And why?’
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