DISCLAIMER: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.
The morning after the Gala did not bring a celebratory hangover of champagne and laughter. Rather, it brought the "Red Fever." It was a mundane, non-magical illness—the kind that magic-users often overlooked, but which could paralyze a household within hours. By sunrise, half of the kitchen staff and several of the manor's pages were bedridden with racking coughs and burning foreheads. It had first crept into the servants' quarters due to the influx of traders for the festival.
Reinn stood in the middle of the Great Hall, her hair tied back and her dark blue gown swapped out for a functional apron. The manor was under a self-imposed quarantine. Only the Hylde family and the five men who professed to love her remained after the nobility had left the previous evening.
"The doctor says it's not deadly if controlled, but it's draining," Eyldion said, his face covered in soot from feeding the infirmary flames. "But, Reinn, the staff is down. The water needs hauling, the medicine needs brewing, and the patients need constant care. We can't just 'magic' this away. It requires hands."
Reinn turned to face the five men in front of her. The "Gala of Intentions" and the "Reality of the Hearth" came together at this point.
For the next seventy-two hours, the Hylde Manor transformed. There were no spectacular shows of power, no dances, and no vows of lyrical love. All that remained was the arduous, monotonous task of maintaining a family—and a home—during a crisis.
The "Heavy Duty" shift was taken by Giywon and Dyierrean. Once in charge of legions, the Prince spent the day transporting bulky buckets of well water to the kitchens and laundry. Usually ringed, his hands became rough and burned. In the woodshop next to him, the Duke of the North carved dozens of little, comfortable bed trays for the sick pages so they could eat. Two men of high birth demonstrated that no duty was beneath the man who planned to manage a home as they worked peacefully.
Ji-Hoon emerged as the manor's chief logistician. Instead of using his tablet for stocks, he used it to monitor the apothecary's inventory and each patient's temperature. Early on, he saw the inefficiency of the fever-tea's conventional brewing procedure. Together with Ryianne Hylde, he spent hours in the kitchen working up a distillation apparatus that tripled their production of medicines. As they watched the liquid drip, he told Ryianne, "It's not about innovation for profit. It's about making sure no child wakes up in pain tonight."
In the infirmary, Killian discovered his vocation. The Pirate King had a surprisingly steady hand and an endless supply of patience, having seen his fair share of battle wounds and scurvy on the high seas. To keep the terrified pages' spirits up, he sat by their bedsides at night and told them sanitized versions of his escapades. He was the one who could get a stubborn child to swallow bitter medicine by turning it into a "bravery challenge."
But Leo stayed by Reinn's side. He became the "Fixer" of her own weariness rather than taking a certain section. She was made to sit down and eat by him. When she slumped over the ledger, he was the one who gave her a shoulder rub. He was the one who recognized her needs before she expressed them.
The fever started to subside on the third night. The only sound in the manor was the crackling of the fireplace. To see how the youngest pages were doing, Reinn strolled over to the makeshift nursery that was set up in the sunroom.
There, she discovered the five men dozing off in varying degrees of fatigue. Giywon had a partially repaired toy on his lap and was leaning against a post. Dyierrean was dozing off on a chair near the door, his hand still habitually resting on the hilt of his sword. Over a pile of medical records at the table, Ji-Hoon had dozed off. Two kids were nestled beneath Killian's bulky emerald coat for warmth as he lay spread out on a mat.
Leo was awake, observing the moon while sitting by the window.
Leaning her head on his shoulder, Reinn sat next to him. "They all did it," she muttered. "They didn't complain. They didn't act like they were doing me a favor. They just... helped."
"That's what a family does, Sam," Leo whispered as he put his arm around her waist. "It's not a gala. It's the three o'clock in the morning shift when everyone is tired, and the fire is going out. You wanted to know who would be a good father. Look at them. You can't go wrong with any of them."
Reinn responded, "I know," her heart constricting. "But I can't marry any of them. I have to marry the one."
As she gazed at the sleeping men, the "Difficulty of Choice" from the Gala started to fade into a "Clarity of Connection." She came to the realization that although she respected Ji-Hoon's intelligence, Killian's spirit, and Giywon and Dyierrean's strength, her heart beat differently for one of them.
She remembered how Giywon had grinned at her after he had finally fixed the stove, even though he was covered in soot. More romantic than any sonnet, she recalled Dyierrean's gentle voice, "I've got the night watch, go sleep." She remembered Killian's soft singing to the sick children and Ji-Hoon's sincere pride when his medication system worked.
However, she turned to face Leo. He was the one who knew her quiet nature. She didn't need to express her feelings to him. In the mess and the grime of the sickbed trial, the "fantasy" of the suitors had faded, leaving behind the reality of a partner.
"Leo," she muttered. "If I choose, the world changes. The 'ending' becomes permanent. We stop being characters, and we just become... people."
He kissed her temple and said, "That's all I've ever wanted, Sam. To be a person. With you."
Reinn got to her feet and turned to face the four other men she admired and loved. The choice was now a beckoning rather than a burden. The "Red Fever" had eliminated the remaining artifice. Not just in the dazzling light of a castle, but also in the gray, weary light of a sickroom, she now understood who she wanted to wake up to.
"Tomorrow," Reinn thought to herself as she made her way back to her bed, "I will tell my parents. The choice is made."