To heal a Rogue

BRADLEY

I saw them from the far end of the corridor. Queen Edelina, moving with more energy than she’d shown since her supposed illness sent her packed to that shack of an infirmary weeks ago, and beside her, an Omega I didn’t recognize, dark hair, striking eyes, walking with the particular stillness of someone who’d been taught to carry herself well. Both of them were heading toward Prince Johann’s chambers.

Something about the pairing set my teeth on edge before I’d even fully processed why.

I signaled the nearest sentinel and sent him to shadow them.

It bothered me more than I wanted to admit that the last spy I’d assigned to Edelina, the one who’d tailed her all the way to that grimy little human club she’d disappeared into not even a day ago, hadn’t reported back since. Not a single word. Not so much as a garbled message confirming he’d made it out with his skin intact. Then Edelina had simply reappeared at the estate, composed and smiling, offering up a DNA test for her son without a shred of resistance, and dropping the not-so-subtle implication that our late King had lied to me directly about the boy’s parentage.

That didn’t sit right with me. Cornelius had been many things over the decades I’d served him. A calculating man. A cold one, at times. But he wasn’t the type to lie unless it served some purpose greater than his own comfort. I’d trusted that about him for longer than I’d trusted almost anyone else alive.

I found the healer who’d drawn Johann’s blood that morning waiting near the east corridor, and I fell into step beside her.

"How long until the DNA test yields results," I asked.

"With our current equipment," she said, "before nightfall, High Beta."

"I want a sample of that blood for myself as well," I said. "Separate from whatever goes into the official process."

"As formerly instructed," she said, "I drew more than what was strictly necessary. If you follow me to the infirmary, I can provide you with the remainder now."

We hadn’t gone more than a few steps before the sentinel I’d sent after Edelina and the Omega came jogging back toward me, breathless.

"I heard nothing," he said. "I saw nothing either, High Beta. The room went dead silent almost the moment they entered it. Like they weren’t speaking at all."

I nearly laughed at that.

I’d planted a small listening device in the Prince’s chambers earlier, while his attention had been elsewhere, entirely occupied with feigning offense over rumors he’d clearly already known were coming. Given everything piling up around this family now, I no longer felt even a flicker of guilt about eavesdropping on royal blood.

I pulled the small receiver from my coat and fitted the earpiece into place, expecting at worst some muffled conversation, some scrap of useful information.

Instead, a shrill burst of static tore straight through my skull, sharp enough that I ripped the earpiece free and very nearly dropped it onto the stone floor entirely. My ear rang for several seconds afterward, a high, thin whine that refused to fade.

Strange. Had the device been discovered and destroyed deliberately, or had it simply malfunctioned at the single worst possible moment? Neither answer sat comfortably with me.

The healer noticed the look on my face and paused mid-step. "Are we still headed to the infirmary, High Beta?"

I nodded, tucking the ruined receiver away. One way or another, I intended to walk away from this day holding something concrete in my hands, even if it had to come from a source considerably less convenient than eavesdropping on a prince.

We continued through the corridors together, and she handed me the small vial once we reached her station, the dark red liquid sealed tight behind glass. I slipped it into my coat pocket and pulled out my phone, dialing one of the sentinels I’d sent out as soon as the delicate incident occur.

"Any progress with the witches on the list I gave you," I said.

"We split into two groups," he said, "to cover more ground faster. Whichever team finds a good healing witch first reports back immediately."

"Smart thinking," I said.

"My group’s trail led us into human territory," he continued. "We believe the witch, Madeline—"

"Valentine Blossom’s daughter," I chimed in.

"Yes. Well, she has been taking a self-imposed sabbatical out here for some time now. Deliberately staying off anyone’s radar, from what the sources tell us."

"Keep me informed," I said. "The moment you have eyes on her."

"We’re about to approach the house now, High Beta."

"Do not antagonize her," I said, my voice sharpening. "I’ve heard she has a particular perchant for popping heads clean off shoulders when she’s sufficiently annoyed, and by all accounts she’s frighteningly skilled at it. Approach carefully and most especially, respectfully."

"Understood."

I ended the call and continued deeper into the infirmary, passing through a corridor where several Omegas knelt scrubbing the last remnants of dried blood from the walls and floor, their expressions carefully blank in the way people trained themselves to look when they wanted to survive proximity to violence without drawing attention. The bodies of the sentinels who’d died defending that hallway were already gone, cleared away hours ago for whatever rites the crown would eventually see fit to grant them.

I intended to see them properly avenged before this was finished. Whatever it cost me.

I made my way further into the ward until I reached the private room where the Delicate rested, and I paused a moment at the door, considering.

Lysander would disapprove of how quickly I was moving on all of this, pushing forward on instinct rather than solid evidence and not caring much about what happened to that poor delicate. But it felt, with every passing hour, like whoever stood against this crown remained one full step ahead of us regardless of how carefully we planned our next move. I needed something. Anything at all to work with.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

She lay in the bed, shifting slightly at the sound of my boots against the floor, both eyes wrapped tightly in bandages already soaked through with dried, rust-colored blood that had seeped out from whatever remained beneath the fabric.

"Who’s there?" The delicate said, her voice thin.

"High Beta Bradley."

"Oh... I was told a witch would be found for me," she said. "One skilled specifically in healing magic. Are they... Are they here?"

"My people are still searching," I said. "But I need something from you first, before that arrives."

I pulled the vial from my coat pocket.

"With what, exactly," she said, tilting her bandaged face toward the sound of glass shifting in my hand.

"Can you read blood effectively the way you read memory from objects and bodies," I asked.

She went very still.

"Does this have anything to do with what happened to the girl who was hanged," she said quietly.

"No," I said. "It doesn’t."

"I have a feeling you’re lying to me."

I opened my mouth to insist otherwise, some practiced denial already forming, then thought better of it entirely. Honesty seemed the wiser path here, given everything I’d already asked of her, everything it had already cost her.

"Alright," I said. "Yes. I lied. But this kingdom genuinely needs your help right now, more than I can properly explain."

"When I touched that girl," she retorted, her voice fraying at the edges, "what came back to me was pure darkness. But that wasn’t what did this to my eyes." She lifted one bandaged hand slightly, gesturing toward her ruined face. "It felt like something didn’t want me looking any further. Like I’d trespassed somewhere I had no right to be. I want to help you, High Beta. I truly do. But I can’t get past what happened to me, or what might happen if I try it again without something protecting me this time. I don’t want to die. Not like this. Not blind and alone in some infirmary bed."

I slid the vial back into my coat pocket slowly.

"And if we secure a talented witch," I said, "one skilled enough to stand guard over you while you work, shielding you from whatever struck you last time? Would that change your answer?"

She was quiet for a long moment, weighing it, her fingers plucking absently at the edge of the blanket covering her lap.

"I might," she said finally. "I might consider it, under those conditions."

"That’s good enough for me," I told her.