Mira's POV
I didn't sleep that night.
Every creak, every whisper of wind, every distant footstep made me reach for the sleeping draught vial Prince Cassian had given me. The death threat lay on my table like a coiled snake.
You're next, magicless girl.
At dawn, I dragged myself to the healing ward, exhausted and terrified. But Master Hadeon was waiting with his usual cold smile, and I realized something important.
If they were going to kill me, they'd do it when I was alone and vulnerable. But as long as I stayed in public spaces, surrounded by witnesses, I had a chance.
So I worked. And I endured.
"Magicless girl!" Master Hadeon's voice cut through my thoughts. "Patient in room seven vomited. Clean it up."
"Yes, Master Hadeon."
I grabbed my bucket and rags, ignoring the snickers from the other healers. This was day three of my new life, and I'd already learned the pattern. Master Hadeon gave me the most disgusting tasks. The other healers made those tasks worse. And I had to smile and take it.
Room seven smelled like death and sickness. A nobleman lay in bed, his face pale and sweaty. Vomit covered his sheets, his blankets, even the floor.
I swallowed my own nausea and got to work.
The nobleman looked at me with bleary eyes. "You're the magicless healer everyone's talking about."
"I'm just a cleaner now, my lord."
"Shame." He coughed weakly. "They say you saved the Prince. That true?"
"It doesn't matter." I wrung out my rag, not meeting his eyes.
"Course it matters." He watched me work. "My son broke his arm last year. Magical healer wanted fifty gold pieces. Didn't have it, so my boy's arm healed crooked. Can't hold a sword right anymore."
My hands stilled. Fifty gold pieces for a broken bone. I'd set Tommy's arm for free.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Don't be sorry. Be angry." His eyes held mine. "World's broken, girl. Question is whether you're brave enough to help fix it."
Before I could answer, Master Hadeon appeared in the doorway.
"Are you chatting instead of working?" His voice was ice.
"No, Master Hadeon. I was just—"
"Just wasting time." He grabbed my bucket and dumped the dirty water on the floor—on the section I'd just cleaned. "Start over. And this time, work faster."
The nobleman opened his mouth to protest, but I shook my head slightly. Getting a patient involved would only make things worse.
I started over, my hands shaking with suppressed rage.
Day five brought a new torture.
"The blood sheets need washing," Master Hadeon announced at morning assembly, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Since our magicless girl is so good with her hands, she can handle it."
He led me to a room piled with sheets soaked in blood from surgery patients. The smell was overwhelming—copper and death.
"All of these. Spotless. By sundown." He smiled that cruel smile. "Oh, and the well water is out for repairs. You'll have to use the river water from the cistern in the basement."
The other healers laughed. They all knew what that meant—carrying heavy buckets up and down stairs for hours. My back already ached from days of scrubbing floors.
But I just nodded. "Yes, Master Hadeon."
I carried those sheets down to the basement cistern trip after trip. My arms screamed. My legs shook. But I kept moving because stopping meant failing, and failing meant giving them what they wanted.
On my fifth trip down, my foot slipped on the wet stairs.
I fell hard, tumbling down stone steps. Pain exploded through my body as I crashed into the basement floor. The bucket flew from my hands, water splashing everywhere.
For a long moment, I just lay there, wondering if anything was broken.
Then I heard laughter echoing from above.
Two healers stood at the top of the stairs—the same ones who'd been "accidentally" making my life miserable all week.
"Oops," one said with mock concern. "Someone must have spilled water on those stairs. So dangerous."
They'd done it on purpose. Made the stairs slippery so I'd fall.
Rage burned through my pain. But I bit it back, pushed myself to my feet despite my throbbing ribs, and picked up my bucket.
"Be more careful next time, magicless girl," the other healer called down sweetly. "We'd hate for you to have an... accident."
The threat was clear. The servant who'd been killed had supposedly fallen from a balcony.
I climbed back up those stairs, every step agony, and kept working.
Day seven broke me.
Master Hadeon sent me to collect fresh linens from the laundry. I was carrying a huge stack, could barely see over the top, when someone stuck out their foot.
I went down hard. Clean linens scattered across the hallway—and directly into a puddle of mud being mopped up by another servant.
"NO!" I shouted, watching hours of laundry work ruined.
The healer who'd tripped me laughed. "Clumsy. Now you'll have to wash them all over again."
Something inside me snapped.
"You tripped me!" The words burst out before I could stop them. "You did it on purpose!"
The laughter died. The healer's face went cold.
"Are you accusing me of something, magicless girl?"
Fear doused my anger. I'd just broken the first rule—never fight back.
"I... no. I'm sorry. I just—"
"Master Hadeon!" she called out loudly. "The magicless girl is making false accusations!"
Master Hadeon appeared like he'd been waiting for this moment. Maybe he had been.
"Is this true?" His voice was soft. Dangerous.
"She tripped me deliberately—"
"I saw no such thing." He looked at the other healers who'd gathered. "Did any of you see Healer Lyssa trip this girl?"
They all shook their heads, smirking.
"But I saw you lose your temper," Master Hadeon continued. "I saw you shout at your betters. That's grounds for punishment."
My stomach dropped.
"Twenty lashes in the courtyard," he said calmly. "At sunset. Let everyone see what happens to magicless girls who forget their place."
"Please," I whispered. "Please, I'm sorry—"
"You should have thought of that before speaking out of turn." He turned away. "Clean up this mess. Then report to the courtyard for your punishment."
He walked off, leaving me kneeling in mud and ruined linens, my hands shaking.
Twenty lashes. I'd seen servants whipped before. Some died from it. Others never fully recovered.
And I had no way out.
I spent the rest of the day in a daze, mechanically completing my tasks. Emma found me scrubbing floors with tears streaming down my face.
"I heard," she whispered, kneeling beside me. "I'm so sorry."
"I was stupid. I let them provoke me."
"You're human. You can only take so much." She pressed something into my hand—a small piece of cloth. "Bite down on this. It helps with the pain."
I looked at her scarred neck and understood. She'd been whipped too.
"Does it get better?" I asked. "After?"
Emma's eyes were sad. "Sometimes. If you're lucky."
As sunset approached, my terror grew. Guards came to collect me, their faces impassive.
They led me to the courtyard where a whipping post stood. A crowd had already gathered—nobles, servants, healers. All come to watch the magicless girl be put in her place.
Master Hadeon stood by the post, a leather whip coiled in his hands.
"Kneel," he commanded.
My legs barely held me, but I made it to the post. They tied my hands above my head, stretching my arms painfully.
"Let this be a lesson," Master Hadeon announced to the crowd. "This is what happens to those who challenge the natural order. Magic is divine. Those without it are nothing."
He raised the whip.
I closed my eyes and bit down on Emma's cloth, bracing for pain.
"STOP!"
The voice rang across the courtyard, commanding and furious.
I opened my eyes.
Crown Prince Cassian strode through the crowd, his face a mask of cold fury. Lady Seraphine followed close behind, her expression calculating.
"What," the Prince said, his voice deadly quiet, "do you think you're doing to my personal healer?"
Master Hadeon's confidence wavered. "Your Highness, the girl broke rules. She must be punished—"
"She is under MY protection. Any punishment requires MY approval." Cassian's silver eyes were like blades. "Did you seek that approval, Master Hadeon?"
Silence.
"I thought not." The Prince moved to the post and untied my hands himself. His touch was gentle, but I felt him trembling with suppressed rage.
"This is highly irregular—" Master Hadeon started.
"What's irregular is you overstepping your authority." Cassian helped me to my feet. I swayed, and he steadied me. "Mira Ashwood answers to me. Not you. Remember that."
He started to lead me away.
"Your Highness," Lady Seraphine's voice cut through the tension, sweet as poisoned honey. "Surely we can't let insubordination go completely unpunished? What message does that send?"
Cassian stiffened.
Seraphine smiled. "Perhaps a compromise? The girl clearly needs discipline. Why not assign her extra duties rather than physical punishment? It would maintain order without..." She glanced at his hand supporting me. "...causing unnecessary conflict."
It was a trap. If Cassian pushed back too hard, it would look like he was showing inappropriate favor to a common girl right in front of his fiancée.
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Extra duties. Not whipping."
"Excellent compromise." Seraphine's smile widened. "Master Hadeon can determine appropriate extra work, I'm sure."
Master Hadeon bowed, but his eyes gleamed with malice. "Of course, my lady. Most appropriate."
They'd won. They'd made Cassian look weak while ensuring I'd still be punished, just differently.
The crowd dispersed, disappointed at missing the show. Master Hadeon left, already planning new tortures. Seraphine glided away, satisfied.
Only Cassian remained, still supporting me.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can't protect you the way I want to. Every time I try, they find a way around it."
"You saved me from a whipping. That's something."
"It's not enough." Frustration bled through his words. "You shouldn't have to endure any of this."
"Thank you, Your Highness." I pulled away gently, aware of eyes still watching us. "I should go."
"Mira—"
"Please. You've helped enough. More will only make things worse."
He wanted to argue. I could see it in his eyes. But he nodded and let me go.
I walked back to my tiny room, my body aching, my spirit battered. Inside, I found a note on my pillow.
My hands shook as I unfolded it.
The Prince can't always save you. Next time, there won't be an interruption. Sleep well, magicless girl.
Underneath, a single dried flower.
Nightshade.
The same poison that had nearly killed the Prince.
Someone was planning to poison me—and wanted me to know I was living on borrowed time.