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Surprisingly, my father is not the first to break the silence. In fact, it almost seems like he is not keen on speaking as he rises from the forest floor with me still tucked in his arms.

It is not Julia either who breaks the silence, her stunned expression from the corner of my eye one that I would find amusing in any other circumstance.

The words are spoken in a language I do not understand, but the implication is obvious.

“Your highness!” I assume one of Amir’s guards yell. What he actually said was, “Shahzadeh!”

He must be injured, but I can’t see as my father’s chest is still in the way. And I have not even begun to process the first voluntary physical contact my frigid sperm donor has had with me.

It’s a tale as old as time, the proverbial father who stepped out to buy milk and never returned. Now my mother never gave me a proper explanation as to why my father left, often spending nights smoking near an open window and gazing off into the distance with an unreadable expression. Once I got older, I learned not to pry. But before then, it did lead to several mistaken times in my youth I’d imprint on whichever boyfriend my mom had. There were many. She had me when she was younger, and although she began to look more tired, my mother possessed a natural beauty that she did not really pass on to me (although if you asked her I was supposedly prettier than she had been at my age).

.....

In the end, they always broke up, eventually allowing me to realize what my mom had learned long ago: that sometimes wishing for something is far better than possessing it.

I don’t know if my father can feel my elbow digging into his rib, my desire to be parted from a grasp far too warm and inviting for its own good. Or maybe he can feel it, but he just doesn’t care. He’s the emperor, he doesn’t have to care about anything other than himself and maintaining his reign. And yet here he is with me in his arms as if he’s carried me a thousand times before today.

“Wolfgang.”

“Your Majesty.” That loudmouthed, sharp-eyed redhead who’s never a step away from my father’s side materializes out of nowhere.

“You’ve been negligent.” Each word out of my father’s mouth is choppy and curt. Is this his anger?

He never seems particularly happy, but in terms of witnessing true fury on my father’s part, this may be the first or second time for me.

“I shall take any punishment you see fit, Your Majesty,” Lord Wolfgang says, still on his knees. It’s strange to look down on this large man for once instead of always breaking my neck to look down at him.

But the cries of the guards tending to Amir keep distracting me.

“You will.” A few people had begun to try to wander away but Emperor Helio’s once over on the gathered people freezes their limbs back in place. “Once you investigate precisely what went wrong without impunity.”

My father has handed the captain of the royal guard a carte blanche to investigate this matter regardless of whoever is involved. But when all traces lead back to Julia, will he still oblige?

“I know! I know what happened!” Julia screeches practically on cue, never one to be kept quiet for too long.

I almost tense up, but I catch myself within seconds. I am still in the grasp of the emperor and should I make any unnecessary movements, I will draw suspicion to myself.

“Father, allow me to heal the prince of Aidel,” I offer right after my half-sister speaks, my indifferent gaze sliding over Julia and moving on to Amir.

His grasp tightens for a second around me, but he puts me down without a word. I cannot help but give Julia an insidious little grin as I walk past her to Amir. She’s about to bury the final nail in the coffin herself, but she can’t even see it yet.

The little girl is trembling with rage. “H-How can you leave when you’re the reason this all happened to begin with? Father, she tried to kill me by luring the griffin here! If it wasn’t for these loyal guards by my side, I would be dead!” Julia continues, intermittent screams breaking up her words. She stands indignantly before my father, her eyes shining like the angels of justice stand by her side.

Let alone displaying such an ugly side before the nobility gathered, even the guards by Julia’s side are wise enough to look nervous. Especially that Sir Porter who had shown me such special treatment.

In official regalia with such a dark expression on his face, I’m not sure where Julia found the gall to start yelling like this. Our father glares down at her like she’s a bug not even fit to be squished beneath his feet. On one hand, it satisfies me to see such a look directed towards her after she tried and almost succeeded in getting me killed. But on the other, to see such an alien gaze directed towards his own child is frightening in and of itself. This is what an imperial family breeds. Distrust and disdain for even your own kin.

Once I reach Amir’s side and out of earshot of Julia, the guards standing over him cannot hide the anger burning within their hearts and on their faces. I don’t blame them as it was indirectly my fault that their prince was hurt. Blood peppers their hands and clothes, but not too much like I’ve seen at the warfront. I breathe out a quiet sigh of relief, the injury must not be the fatal kind.

I hold my hands up by my side as if to show I’m innocent when in truth, none of us are. “I can heal. Surely you’ve heard that interesting rumor before?”

“Let her through,” a weak voice calls beneath their overbearing care.

His deeply tanned skin appears slightly paler than I recall, but he is in good spirits. Flashing a weak smile in my direction he asks, “It seems that most of the rumors I heard were correct, no?”

I know he’s talking about my father. He’s brave for landing upon that touchy subject once more after I’d shut him down last time. But I suppose with an injury incurred which saving me, he feels quite emboldened.

“I would recommend shutting your mouth unless you wish to bleed out,” I kindly suggest.

He was in no danger of bleeding out, I could immediately feel that much when my body takes on his wound for the usual brief second. However, I take note of something else about his injury as well, one that makes it hard for me to maintain a sarcastic grin.

“I shall pay a visit to give my thanks tomorrow,” Amir says, the color already returning to his face.

“See to it that you do,” I bite out. I don’t give the prince on the ground a second glance as I stalk out of the forest, leaving behind a myriad of distasteful things in my wake.

People step out of my path almost fearfully, as if my father will shove them out of my way if they don’t move quickly enough. They are all probably asking themselves the same question I am, why did my father leap in to save me?

While it is true that being allowed to live in the central palace is a luxury affording solely to me, the emperor’s affection is not often measured in terms of physical affection. The most Augustus tends to get from our father is a pat on the shoulder and nods of approval. So for him to jump from that to saving my life, the difference is like night and day.

A cynical part of my mind shrugs away the help from Emperor Helio, promising me that I had more than enough to time to grab the vial and save myself.

But I know that’s not true.

And that’s the part that irritates me the most.

“Your highness?” Nina and my attendants stand nervously by the mouth of the forest. The table where the elite noblewoman had brunched and thrown thinly veiled barbs at me has long been vacated as they most likely moved to safer grounds when word of the griffin had reached them.

I probably look like the sole survivor exiting the woods alone. But rather than assuage my attendants, I’m lost in my thoughts, my emotions at war with themselves.

I smirk to myself. “Pathetic,” I mutter.

“I’m sorry, your highness. We will work to better ourselves,” Nina says.

She’s a bit of an eyesore herself, a constant reminder that House Duvernay will always be able to worm their way into those close to me. But she and the attendants are not the subject of my ire.

“No, not you. Me,” I correct. “Let’s leave. I wish to return to the palace.”

“Your highness, Emma wishes to speak with you.” A few hours have passed but they felt like minutes. The sky outside my window is pitch black, the glare of light from the candles reflecting my sullen face in the glass.

“Tell her to return tomorrow night. Tonight I- tonight I must rest.” I curl up on my bed away from the door, a pitifully small figure on a bed large enough for 5 people. Like mother, like daughter I suppose.

I get little sleep, my thoughts invading the few dreams that dared cross my path that night. I can see my father beheading the prisoner of war without hesitation. Except this time, I am not able to heal the man as easily as breathing. My abilities are gone, not just for the rare case but for everyone. And with each person, my father’s frown grows deeper and more distant. I’m not just a bastard princess, I’m a useless one too. His regret at bringing me back to the palace is palpable as he stalks out of the tent, not even deigning to give me a passing look over his shoulder.

My finger swirls around the mouth of my teacup, my appetite that morning all but gone even for tea.

“Something on your mind, princess?” Amir inquires with his everpresent grin. Unlike yesterday when he was hunting, he’s a bit more dressed today in a regal Aidelish attire composed of swooping fabrics with the fine embroidery his kingdom is known for.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” I easily admit, giving Amir a wan smile. “What gave you the gall to fake your injury yesterday?”