The news of Leesa's awakening spread like wildfire across the palace, and it wasn't long before the Duke, Duchess, and young Lord Bryant burst into her chambers, breathless with concern. Flavian, seated at Leesa's side, barely had time to straighten before he found himself subtly ousted. Anton appeared like clockwork and, with all the grace of a tactful but persistent aide, urged the crown prince away with murmurs of "urgent matters." Flavian left reluctantly, casting a final glance over his shoulder.
Lilian Marlene, the Duchess, gently tugged her husband away from where he had attached himself to Leesa's bedside like an ivy. "Now, my dear, how are you feeling?" she asked, brushing a loose strand of hair off Leesa's brow, her tone soft but insistent.
"I'm fine, Mother. Father." Leesa gave them both a reassuring smile. "Truly. The royal physician checked on me earlier. He said I am recovering faster than expected."
The relief on their faces was palpable, but it was clear that they were not entirely convinced. The duke scanned her pale face, the faint hollows beneath her eyes, the way her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she adjusted her blanket. She had grown thin. Her skin, once radiant, seemed washed in moonlight.
After a moment of silence, the duke finally spoke. "Leesa, dearest… why don't you return to the Marlene Estate? Just for a few days. You'll be more comfortable there. You can rest, truly rest."
Leesa's gaze flickered between their worried expressions. She knew the offer came from a place of love. But going back... going back would mean surrendering to the stillness. The estate, with its warm halls and familiar comforts, would cradle her, but it would also slow her down. The palace tested her. Pressed her to grow. Made her remember who she had become.
Her lips parted, then closed again. The words refused to rise. It felt like she was trying to cough through silky soft resistance, no sound. And yet, she forced them out.
"Thank you," she said at last, her voice quiet but unwavering. "But I must stay here."
The duke frowned slightly. The Duchess's eyes dimmed.
Leesa looked down at her hands, then up at them with a faint smile. "It's like being a bird that's just learned to fly. If I return to the nest too soon... I might forget how to soar."
The Duke exhaled heavily, pride and sadness mingling in his expression. The Duchess gave a small nod, blinking away at the moisture forming in her eyes.
"Well then," said Lilian, recovering her poise. "If you insist on remaining in this cold stone palace, we'll ensure it feels like home."
"Indeed," added the Duke. "Bryant shall stay with you in the Beryl Palace and see to it that you're fed properly. He's inherited your stubbornness; he'll make sure you regain your strength."
"Don't worry, sis," Bryant piped in with a grin, "I've already made a list of all your favourite dishes. You'll be back to being annoying in no time."
Leesa laughed softly, warmth finally touching her voice. "Thank you… all of you."
The Marlenes stayed a while longer, talking about the estate, the changes in the season, and the strange events at the palace. And though Leesa's body ached, her heart felt oddly light.
After her family left, Weinne quietly returned to the room, bringing in a silver jug of water. She offered Leesa a warm smile, helped her take a few sips, and then carefully tucked her in for the night, smoothing the blanket over her without a word. The soft rustling of the linens and the faint click of the lantern being dimmed were the last things Leesa heard before sleep reclaimed her.
The next morning came with another wave of formality. The guards stationed at the end of the hallway straightened as the Emperor and Empress arrived at the Beryl Palace. Their footsteps were measured, the weight of imperial presence announcing itself even before the doors opened. Leesa, propped up against soft pillows and already dressed neatly thanks to Weinne's morning care, bowed her head slightly as they entered.
The Empress approached first, her composure graceful but sincere. "Lady Marlene," she began, her voice smooth as silk but firm with imperial weight. "We owe you a debt of gratitude for your service to the Empire and for the safe return of our son. Without your relentless efforts, this might have ended very differently."
Leesa met her eyes. "I only did what was right, Your Majesty."
The Emperor, usually unreadable, gave a slow nod of approval. "And that is precisely why it must be acknowledged. The Empire remembers its faithful."
They didn't stay long, but their presence carried weight, and when they left, so too did the official shadow that had hung over Leesa's recovery. She had not just survived, she had been honoured for it.
Over the following days, Leesa's chambers became a revolving door of visitors. From the Crown Prince himself, who now visited more frequently but with a kind of quiet restraint, to the commander of the imperial army, each came to thank her, each brought words of admiration and some, like Anton, even brought books or small comforts from the royal library.
As the days passed, the colour returned to Leesa's cheeks, and her limbs no longer trembled when she sat up for long periods. She began to eat more heartily, often encouraged (or lovingly pestered) by Bryant's new obsession with creating the perfect recovery menu. Every meal had a purpose, and every dish was introduced with a dramatic flair.
Finally, one morning, the royal physician, after yet another thorough check, gave his declaration. "You may begin taking light strolls within the gardens," he said, pleased. "Keep to the sun, rest when needed, but you must move to regain your full strength."
That afternoon, as she stood by the open windows, breathing in the fresh scent of trimmed roses from the imperial gardens below, Weinne quietly informed her that it was time. "The Duke and Duchess are preparing to leave for the Dukedom," she said gently.
Leesa nodded, the warmth from the sun brushing her face like a soft farewell. She was strong enough now to walk to the garden gate and see them off herself.