POV Selene
Three days after the hearing, life should have felt lighter. Kestrel was in the dungeons awaiting trial. Isolde had been exiled to her family's estate under guard. Ari remained with me. We had won everything we fought for.
But something was wrong.
Ari tired easily, falling asleep in the middle of games he used to play for hours. Bruises appeared on his arms without cause, dark purple blooms I could not explain. His appetite faded until meals became negotiations. I watched him sleep too much, play too little. Fear built in my chest like gathering storm clouds.
I summoned Doctor Saren for a full examination. She worked methodically through tests I had watched dozens of times. Blood samples, physical assessment, detailed questioning about symptoms and changes. When she finished, her face was grave in a way that made my stomach clench.
"We need to speak privately," she said.
We moved to my sitting room. Anya joined us without being asked. Doctor Saren spread test results across the table, numbers and graphs that meant nothing to me but everything to her.
"The clotting disorder isn't improving despite optimal treatment." Her finger traced graphs showing lines declining like falling stars. "In fact, it's progressing faster than any model predicted. At this rate, within six months to a year, his body will stop producing clotting factors entirely."
My world tilted. The words reached me through water. "What does that mean?"
"It means any injury, even minor, could be fatal. A fall that would bruise another child. A nosebleed that won't stop. Eventually..." Doctor Saren's professional mask cracked, showing genuine pain beneath. "Eventually his organs will begin failing from internal bleeding we cannot prevent. There's nothing we can do to stop the progression."
"There has to be something," I whispered. "Better treatments. New medicines. Experimental procedures from other kingdoms—"
"I've consulted every text available, corresponded with every expert I know across three kingdoms. This particular variant of the disorder..." She shook her head. "I'm deeply sorry. We can manage symptoms. Buy time with transfusions and medications. But we cannot cure it."
I could not breathe. Could not think past the roaring in my ears. Six months. Maybe a year. My son, my bright and brave and beautiful boy, was dying.
"How long does he have?" Anya asked quietly when I could not form words.
"It's difficult to say with precision. With aggressive treatment and careful management, possibly two years. But his quality of life will deteriorate significantly." Doctor Saren gathered her papers with hands that shook slightly. "I'm deeply sorry."
After she left, I sat frozen in my chair. Anya touched my shoulder gently, anchoring me to reality I wanted to escape.
"You need to tell the king."
"I know." My voice sounded distant, belonging to someone else. "I just need a moment to process this."
But I knew there were no moments left. Only countdowns measured in heartbeats.
I found Casimir reviewing border security reports in his study, surrounded by the mundane work of kingship. He looked up with a smile that died the instant he saw my face.
"What's wrong?"
I crossed to him on legs that barely supported me. "We need to talk about Ari."
His face went pale. "What happened? Is he—"
I told him everything. The deteriorating test results, the disease progression, the timeline Doctor Saren had given. Six months to two years at most. No cure available.
The words landed like blade strikes. He stood abruptly, unable to remain still. "That's not acceptable."
"It's not about acceptance. It's medical reality—"
"No." His voice turned to steel. "I refuse to accept that my son, our son, has a death sentence. There has to be something, some treatment or specialist we haven't consulted."
"Doctor Saren said—"
"I don't care what she said." He was pacing now, mind racing visibly. "She's one physician. There are others. Medical researchers. Healers in other kingdoms. Ancient texts that might contain forgotten cures." He stopped, turned to face me. "We just found each other. We just became a family. I will not lose him now."
"Casimir—" My voice broke completely.
He crossed to me and pulled me into his arms. I collapsed against him, finally letting the tears come. He held me tight enough to hurt, his own eyes burning.
"We'll find a way," he said with fierce conviction. "I promise you, we'll find a way."
That afternoon, Casimir summoned the kingdom's foremost medical researcher. Master Aldric, an elderly scholar who had spent fifty years studying blood disorders and rare diseases.
"I need you to find everything," Casimir commanded from behind his desk. "Every text, every legend, every whisper of a cure for clotting disorders. I don't care how obscure or unlikely. Search the royal archives. Send to other kingdoms. Consult the oldest texts in existence."
Master Aldric bowed low. "Your Majesty, I must be honest. If Doctor Saren says there's no conventional cure—"
"Then we find an unconventional one." Casimir's voice dropped dangerously. "My son has perhaps a year to live. I'm giving you every resource of the Crown. Money is no object. Time is no object. Find me something that might work."
Master Aldric saw the desperation, the command, the implicit threat. "I'll begin immediately, Majesty."
"Good. Report to me daily with every finding, every possibility, no matter how remote or improbable."
After the scholar left, I found Casimir standing alone, hands pressed flat on his desk, trying to regain control. His shoulders shook slightly.
"What did you do?" I asked from the doorway.
"Declared war on fate." He looked at me with eyes that burned. "I won't give up. I can't."
I crossed to him and took his shaking hands in mine. "Neither can I."
We did not tell Ari. Not yet. Instead, we gave him the best days of his young life, making every moment count.
Casimir cleared his schedule, delegating everything that could be delegated. We spent mornings with Ari in the gardens, teaching him falconry with birds that landed gentle on his small arm. Playing elaborate games he invented with rules that changed constantly. Telling stories about brave princes and clever ravens and kingdoms that existed only in imagination.
We took him to the royal stables, let him ride a gentle mare that plodded patiently. We explored the palace's hidden passages with torches, discovering rooms forgotten for generations. We had picnics in the winter garden where frost made everything sparkle.
Ari glowed with happiness I memorized desperately. "This is the best time ever," he told us one evening at dinner.
My throat closed. Casimir squeezed my hand under the table.
"We love you so much," Casimir said, voice rough.
"I love you too, Father. And you, Mama." Ari yawned widely. "Can we do this every day forever?"
"Every day we can," I promised, the words tasting like lies.
We tucked him in together that night, read him stories until his eyes drooped, watched him fall asleep with a smile on his face.
In the corridor outside his room, I leaned against the wall. "How do we do this? Act normal and joyful when we know—"
"We do it because he needs us to." Casimir's jaw was tight enough to crack. "We give him joy while we search for answers. Both at once."
That night Casimir did not sleep. I found him in the royal library, a vast chamber of ancient texts that smelled of leather and dust and time. He sat surrounded by books on medicine, blood disorders, rare diseases. Reading by candlelight, taking notes, searching for anything that might help.
The next night was the same. And the next.
Master Aldric brought findings daily, most of them dead ends. Treatments that delayed progression but did not cure. Experimental procedures too risky for a child. Promising research that would take decades to yield results we did not have.
Casimir read until his eyes burned red. He sent for texts from other kingdoms—Ormont, the Southern Isles, even the distant Eastern Empire. Anything that might hold an answer hidden in old knowledge.
On the fourth night, I found him in the library surrounded by towers of books that threatened to topple. His eyes were bloodshot, beard unshaven. He had been neglecting everything but this search.
"You need to sleep," I said softly.
"I will. After I finish this section on hereditary blood conditions." He did not look up from the page.
I sat beside him and took the book from his hands gently. "Casimir, look at me."
He did. The grief and desperation in his eyes nearly undid me completely.
"We'll find something," he said hoarsely. "We have to. I can't lose him. I just found him."
I opened my mouth to respond, to offer comfort I did not feel, when Master Aldric burst into the library breathing hard. His thin hair stood at angles. He clutched something to his chest.
"Your Majesty! Princess! I found something." He crossed to us quickly. "An old legend. It might be nothing, probably is nothing, but..." He held up an ancient leather-bound tome with pages gone brown at the edges. "It speaks of a cure for any blood affliction. Dragon's blood."