Chapter 7: The Prince

The palace was even more intimidating from the inside.

Asher had spent most of the carriage ride trying to convince himself that he had made the right decision. It wasn’t working.

The moment he was led through the enormous entrance, he understood exactly how badly he had underestimated the situation.

Everything was too large. The ceilings were too high, the corridors too wide. The walls were covered in paintings of dead kings who looked like they had never smiled in their entire lives. Even the servants moved with an efficiency that made Asher suddenly conscious of the fact that his shoes were slightly worn at the edges.

He followed the royal guard through another set of enormous doors, clutching his crystal ball against his chest.

It was ridiculous, really. The thing wasn’t magical. It had never been magical. It was glass. Very expensive-looking glass, admittedly, but still just glass.

Asher had bought it years ago because people trusted fortune tellers more when they had one. Apparently, telling someone their future while holding a crystal ball made the lie look more convincing.

His actual gift had nothing to do with it. He wished people would stop assuming otherwise.

"This way," one of the guards said.

Asher looked up.

Two large wooden doors stood ahead of them. Several physicians were gathered outside, and the moment they saw Asher approaching, their expressions changed.

Not dramatically, but enough for the young fortune teller to notice.

One physician looked him up and down, clearly unimpressed.

"This is the fortune teller?"

Asher smiled politely.

"Unfortunately."

The physician frowned. King Eric had apparently told them exactly what Asher was, because none of them bothered asking for an introduction.

"His Majesty believes you can help the prince?"

"His Majesty believes a lot of things," Asher replied.

The guard beside him cleared his throat, and Asher smiled wider, now more aware of the blade hanging on the guard’s waist.

"I mean, yes. I can help."

The physician’s mouth tightened.

"The Crown Prince has been examined by six of the kingdom’s finest physicians, three court mages and two healers from the eastern provinces. None of us have been able to determine the cause of his illness."

"That’s unfortunate." Asher commented, not particularly interested. He wasn’t a healer, so all of this information didn’t really matter to him. The physician rambled on regardless.

"His fever rises and falls without pattern. His pulse weakens without warning. There is no infection, no visible wound, no common poison and no magical curse that we have been able to detect."

Asher’s smile faded slightly. That was already more concerning than he had expected.

"How long has he been like this?"

"Three weeks."

Asher glanced toward the closed doors.

"Three weeks?"

"Yes." The physician answered curtly.

"And he’s been unconscious the entire time?"

"Mostly."

Asher nodded slowly. That wasn’t normal. Even if the physicians hadn’t figured out the cause, three weeks of unexplained illness was enough to make the situation dangerous.

The doors opened, and Asher stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was the silence. The room was enormous, but almost everything inside it seemed designed to make the place feel smaller. Heavy curtains covered most of the windows, allowing only thin strips of daylight through. Several candles burned around the room despite the morning sun outside.

At the center of it all was a large bed, and lying in it was Crown Prince Aaron.

Asher stopped. He had expected someone who looked sick, he hadn’t expected someone who looked like he was barely alive.

Aaron’s skin was unnaturally pale. Dark circles surrounded his closed eyes, and his lips had lost most of their color. His dark hair was damp against his forehead, and his breathing was so shallow that Asher almost wondered whether he was breathing at all. If he hadn’t seen the prince before, he’d never believe they were agemates.

King Eric stood beside the bed. The moment Asher entered, the king turned.

"You are here."

Asher gave a small bow.

"Your Majesty."

The king looked impatient, clearly not caring for courtesy in this dire moment.

"Can you help him?"

Asher looked at Aaron, then back at the king.

"I haven’t seen him yet."

"You are looking at him."

"I’m aware."

The king’s jaw tightened, and Asher quickly had to correct himself. He had a habit of not being clear with his words. It was how he sold his business, he had to be ominous and mysterious for people to buy the act.

"I mean I haven’t properly examined him yet."

"Then do it."

Asher approached the bed, and the physicians moved aside reluctantly.

He placed his crystal ball on a nearby table. One of the physicians glanced at it with disdain. Asher caught the look, and simply smiled.

"Don’t worry. It doesn’t bite."

The physician stared at him.

"Neither does he," Asher added, nodding toward Aaron. "Probably."

Nobody laughed. Asher sighed, apparently palace humor was different. He sat beside Aaron and studied him carefully.

At first, nothing happened. He could hear the quiet murmurs of the physicians behind him. He could hear King Eric shifting impatiently, and he could hear Aaron’s weak breathing.

Then Asher reached out and touched the prince’s wrist.

Everything changed the moment they connected. His vision blurred, and the room disappeared.

Asher’s fingers tightened around Aaron’s wrist. He was no longer sitting beside the prince, he was standing in a dark corridor, Aaron was walking toward him.

He was wearing a crown, and blood covered the front of his clothes.

Asher blinked, and the scene changed with it. Now Aaron was lying in the same bed.

Dead.

His eyes were closed, his skin was cold, and someone was crying somewhere in the background.

Then the scene changed again. Aaron was standing in a crowded throne room. He was alive, older, and visibly angry.

There was another change, this time Aaron was dead again. There was blood on the floor, and the poor prince was lying in it, clearly murdered.

Asher’s breathing caught, and another change followed.

Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead.

The images came faster, too fast for the fortune teller to keep up with. Asher ripped his hand away, and the room slammed back into existence.

He gasped for air, and several people immediately moved toward him.

"What happened?" King Eric demanded.

Asher stared at Aaron. The prince had not moved, his eyes remained closed, and his breathing remained shallow.

But Asher’s heart was pounding. He had never experienced anything like that before.

His gift had always been strange.

Sometimes he knew things without understanding how he knew them. Sometimes a person’s future simply appeared in his mind when he looked at them. Other times, he received nothing at all.

But this was different. Aaron’s future wasn’t simply unclear. It was fractured, there were too many possibilities, and almost every path ended with the same thing.

Death.

"Well?" the king demanded.

Asher swallowed, still trying to get his breathing under control.

"What did you see?"

Asher looked toward the physicians, then at the king. He couldn’t tell them the truth, at least not yet. Because if he told them Aaron’s future was filled with death, they would panic. And if there was one thing Asher had learned about powerful people, it was that frightened powerful people were dangerous.

"I saw that he can recover," Asher said.

The room went silent, and King Eric stared at him.

"You are certain?"

"No."

The king’s expression darkened.

Asher quickly continued. "I mean, I’m certain he can recover. I’m not certain how yet."

One of the physicians scoffed.

"Convenient."

Asher looked at him with dread in his eyes.

"Would you prefer I tell His Majesty his son is definitely going to die?"

The physician fell silent, and only then did Asher turn back to the king. "Give me time."

"How much?"

"One week."

The king’s eyes narrowed, staring Asher down like he would a fraud.

"You promised me one week."

"And I’m still promising."

"Can you cure him?"

Asher looked at Aaron again.

"I can try."

It wasn’t the confident answer the king wanted, but it was the only honest one he could give.

King Eric stepped closer.

"I brought you here because I was told your predictions are unlike those of ordinary fortune tellers."

Asher resisted the urge to glance at his crystal ball.

"They are."

"Then tell me what is wrong with my son."

Asher hesitated. That was the problem, he didn’t know. He knew Aaron was sick, he knew his future was unstable, and he knew something was terribly wrong.

But there was something else. Something he hadn’t told the king. During the visions, there had been a moment when Aaron’s future changed.

Not naturally. Something had interfered, and Asher had felt it. It was like reaching for one road and suddenly finding someone had moved the entire road somewhere else.

Someone, or something, was manipulating the prince’s fate. And that frightened him far more than the illness itself.

"I need to be alone with him," Asher said.

The physicians immediately objected.

"Absolutely not."

"He needs rest."

"He needs someone monitoring his condition."

Asher looked at them.

"If six physicians, three mages and two healers couldn’t figure out what’s wrong with him, I don’t think one more person standing around the bed is going to make much difference."

The room went silent. King Eric looked between Asher and the physicians.

Then he raised one hand.

"Leave."

The physicians stared at him.

"Your Majesty—"

"I said leave."

One by one, they obeyed. The guards followed, and soon, only Asher, King Eric and the unconscious prince remained.

The king looked at Asher.

"I’ll give you an hour."

Asher nodded.

King Eric walked toward the door, then stopped.

"If you fail..."

Asher didn’t need him to finish.

"I know."

The king left.

The room became quiet again. Asher waited several seconds before releasing the breath he had been holding.

"That went well."

He looked at Aaron.

"You and I are going to have a very long week."

Aaron didn’t respond.

Asher pulled a chair closer to the bed. He studied the prince again. There was something strange about him. Not just the illness, but Asher couldn’t explain it.

He reached toward Aaron’s forehead, stopping just before his fingers touched the prince’s skin.

Then he hesitated. The moment he had touched Aaron earlier, his ability had reacted violently. He wasn’t sure he wanted to experience that again.

But he needed answers. Slowly, Asher placed his fingers against Aaron’s forehead, but nothing happened. He waited, but still got nothing.

Asher sighed in relief, happy he hadn’t been pulled into another nightmare.

"Good. We can work with normal."

Then Aaron’s fingers moved.

Asher froze. The prince’s hand twitched against the sheets. His breathing changed, then his eyelids slowly opened.

Asher immediately stood, unsure of what to do next. Should he call for the king, or simply pretend he had seen nothing?

Aaron stared at the ceiling for several seconds, his eyes unfocused.

Then his gaze shifted. It landed directly on Asher, and neither of them spoke.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed slightly as though he were trying to remember something.

Asher smiled nervously.

"Hello."

The prince continued staring.

"You’re the fortune teller." His voice was weak, barely more than a whisper.

Asher nodded. "That would be me."

"You’re..."

He stopped, his eyes fixed tensely on Asher.

"What?"

Aaron’s expression changed. Confusion, recognition, and fear? All three crossed his face in quick succession.

Asher’s smile slowly disappeared.

"Have we met before?"

Aaron shook his head.

"No."

Asher frowned, now more confused than ever . "Then why are you looking at me like that?"

The prince remained silent, his breathing grew slightly heavier. Finally, Aaron whispered,

"I’ve seen you before."

Asher’s stomach tightened.

"Where?"

Aaron stared at him for several long seconds. Then his voice dropped to almost nothing.

"In my dreams."