MWAMHR |CHAPTER 52

Chapter 52

It boiled down to one thing—have the child feign illness. That part wasn’t difficult. But the condition that Noah had to swallow herbs made Elisa uneasy, and she stared fixedly at the bundle of leaves.

“What kind of herb is that?” Ethan asked, pointing to the basket.

“It’s called Lavarif,” the village chief replied as he stepped forward.

“If consumed, it brings on a mild fever for two to four hours. People in colder regions often use it to warm their bodies.”

Such a thing existed? Elisa was astonished, though worry immediately crept in. Was it truly harmless? Would Noah really be all right eating it?

“Princess Camilla found it strange that Prince Howard came alone to Sailport,” the aide interjected before she could press for details.

At the mention of Camilla, Elisa’s brows furrowed. She recalled their tea together. Ethan, too, stiffened.

“Did the princess follow Elisa?” Ethan asked.

“No, Your Highness. She followed you. Or rather, one of Prince Alex’s men shadowed you and reported back to her.”

Ethan clicked his tongue. So even as Alex was on his way to Moro, he’d found time for pointless meddling.

“The prince told her that young Noah Leslie had fallen suddenly ill, so Miss Leslie entrusted him with the task of finding Baron Estevan.”

“Hasn’t enough time passed? Couldn’t we simply say the child has recovered?” Elisa asked.

The aide shook his head firmly. “That would only invite suspicion. They’d pry into whether the boy had truly been ill, or if something else was at play. It’s too easy to coax an innocent child into saying exactly what they want.”

At once Elisa imagined Noah, surrounded by adults, being interrogated. The thought made her flinch and hug him tightly.

“And just as His Highness and I realized at once, so will Princess Camilla—that this child is Baron Estevan’s son—”

“Enough,” Ethan cut in sharply. That subject was too dangerous for both Elisa and Noah.

The aide only shrugged and continued smoothly. “If the boy is ill, it becomes a shield. It keeps Camilla and others from approaching him. And it gives Miss Leslie a convenient excuse—she must remain behind to care for her sick brother.”

If not, both Elisa and Noah would fall prey to Camilla’s relentless attention. Elisa knew it wasn’t an empty threat. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to agree either. Could Noah truly endure it? Would the herb bring unforeseen harm? Even a mild fever would exhaust him.

Ethan’s expression mirrored her own conflict. For Noah’s sake, the answer should have been no. But for Elisa’s sake, how could he refuse?

Just then, Noah, who had been watching silently, reached out and gripped Elisa’s arm with his small hand. His steady gaze seemed to say, I’ll be fine.

“Noah… are you really sure?” Elisa asked softly.

He nodded.

“If you run a fever, it might hurt, it might be hard. You’ll still be all right?”

Another nod, without hesitation.

Her chest constricted. It wasn’t pride she felt at his bravery but a heavy ache, and she pulled him tightly into her arms.

Ethan exhaled deeply, turning to the chief. “Aside from fever, are there no other effects? No side consequences?”

“None,” the chief assured. “As I said, it’s widely used in cold regions. The fever never rises beyond mild warmth. There’s no danger.”

“I’ll vouch for it as well,” the aide added glibly.

Ethan’s gray eyes narrowed dangerously at him. The aide only smiled as though unaffected.

“Fine,” Ethan muttered, releasing another long sigh. He gave a reluctant nod.

“But if Noah suffers even the slightest ill effect—” His eyes flared, sharp as blades, sweeping from the aide to the chief.

“Both of you will pay with your lives.”

The aide, for once, couldn’t muster a smile. He dropped his gaze, knowing full well Ethan’s threats were never idle.

***

After Ethan plunged from the cliff and vanished, Camilla had spent every day and night in tears. She neither ate nor drank properly, praying only that God would bring him back alive.

Her maids were frantic. If the princess wasted away, their own lives might be forfeit. They begged her to take food, to drink at least a little.

“If you collapse, my lady, and Lord Estevan returns, you won’t even be able to see him.”

Only then did she reluctantly take enough to quench thirst and ease hunger.

In that hollow despair, the one name that roused any reaction from her was Elisa Leslie.

“That’s impossible! What is she doing here?” Camilla had raged when she heard Elisa was coming to Sailport with Prince Howard.

Her maids had never seen her so livid, and they looked on in shock. Even when Howard arrived alone—without Elisa—Camilla could not calm down. She grew more agitated, insisting she must find Ethan before anyone else. She refused to answer Howard’s questions about what had happened that day.

But days passed with no trace of Ethan. Her fury curdled into grief, her face streaked with tears as suspicion gnawed at her. She shut herself in her chamber again, praying desperately.

Then one day—

“Your Highness! Your Highness!” A maid burst into her chamber.

Camilla, haggard from sleepless nights, turned to her with weary eyes. “What is it?”

“She’s here! Elisa Leslie has arrived!”

At that name, Camilla’s dull eyes flared sharp and bright. She staggered to her feet and clutched the maid’s arm.

“She came here? Truly?”

“Yes, and she brought her sick younger brother! The moment she arrived, she begged Prince Howard’s aide to summon a physician!” The maid clucked her tongue. “Such a strange, shameless woman.”

Why bring the child? Camilla narrowed her eyes. Something about it unsettled her.

“I must meet her,” she declared.

She needed answers. Why Elisa had come. Why she had dragged along her sick brother. Whether the child was truly ill. And then—she would send her packing back to the capital. Howard too, if possible.

Camilla would not let Elisa see her weakened state. She dressed herself as splendidly as ever, her maid skillfully painting away the shadows under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.

As soon as she was ready, she swept toward Howard’s chambers where Elisa was said to be. In the corridor she met the departing physician.

“I heard the boy was ill,” she asked coolly. “What is it?”

“A cold, Your Highness. He said he was diagnosed in Norfen as well.”

“A cold, lasting so many days?”

“Children often endure longer spells. It can spread easily, so it would be best if you keep your distance.”

So—the sickness was real. Yet if Elisa had still come here, dragging her brother along, it could only mean one thing: she was unwilling to let go of Ethan.

Camilla’s eyes blazed. Elisa had once insisted she and Ethan were nothing, that she didn’t care what became of him. And now she came chasing after him? It was infuriating.

Ignoring the maid’s pleas not to risk contagion, Camilla strode on. Fortune was with her—Howard wasn’t in the chamber.

“Princess Camilla…?” Elisa blinked in surprise.

“Why are you here? And with a sick brother at that?” Camilla demanded, wasting no time.

“Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly developed regrets about Ethan?”

“Yes,” Elisa answered without flinching. She met the princess’s piercing gaze with calm conviction.

“I couldn’t forget him. I still love him. That is why I came—to find him.”