The King was silent for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed and said, "I know, Phils. You're not going to do anything reckless."
Philip didn't laugh. His eyes were fixed on the King, still burning with anger. The King took a deep breath, his expression softening. "Alright," he said finally. "You have my permission."
"Philip, go and bring Wellness here right now," Phils said. Philip turned to me. I was barely conscious—my body covered in blood. At his command, the soldiers hurried forward and removed the chains from my wrists.
Philip stepped closer, his eyes widening as he saw my back. Blood had soaked through the torn fabric, and deep marks carved across my skin. Tears welled in my eyes, though I could hardly feel them anymore.
Without hesitation, Philip bent down and lifted me in his arms—gently, carefully, like one would carry a wounded child. My back burned with every movement, so he avoided touching it. My eyes fluttered half open, hazy with delirium.
I thought they were taking me to my death. But strangely… I wasn't afraid. Somewhere deep inside, I had already accepted the end.
Philip carried me into the grand chamber where the King and the others waited. phils held me close and whispered softly, "Nothing's going to happen now. You're safe." His voice trembled with a rare tenderness. Then he pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead.
For a second, my lifeless eyes flickered open. The moment I realized where I was, I broke down, clutching him tightly and sobbing uncontrollably.
Then Prince Phils spoke sharply, "Heal Prince Sam, Wellness's wounds—now."
His voice echoed in the hall. I froze. Heal? Did he say heal?
I turned to look at Prince Sam, realization dawning on me. He… he had healing powers. My shock quickly turned to anger.
"How could you?" I shouted, my voice trembling. "How could you do this to someone when you're a healer?"
Sam stood silently, no care across his face.
"Sam," the King ordered strongly, "heal this girl's wounds right now."
Sam sighed. "Fine. Then bring her to me."
Phils snapped, "Can't you see her condition? Her flesh is showing! Does this look like a punishment of twenty lashes?"
His eyes flared with fury, and for a moment, it seemed like he might strike Prince Sam right there.
"No!" I shouted weakly. "No, my wounds will heal on their own. I won't take help from people like him."
Phils gaze turned sharp. I knew that look—it was anger.
"I'll be fine," I whispered again. "I don't need help."
Before I could take another breath, phils hand struck my cheek—a hard, stinging slap. My skin went numb, and I turned away, biting back tears.
Prince Sam laughed bitterly and stepped closer. He placed his hand over my wounds. At first, there was warmth—then searing pain.
It felt as if fire had been poured onto my back. I screamed. The pain was unbearable, worse than the flogging itself. My body went stiff as the spell burned through me, forcing every nerve to awaken.
When the light faded, I staggered back, trembling. "Are you insane?" I shouted. "You're not healing me—you're doing something else, you idiot!"
The room fell silent. Prince Sam's eyes darted toward me, warning me not to say another word. But before I could understand, Philip moved again—another slap, harsher this time.
And maybe… this one, I deserved.
I bit my lip and stood quietly, tears slipping down my cheeks. Phils anger didn't fade. His eyes burned with anger.
When the healing was over, Sam placed a hand on my shoulder. "I didn't think you'd endure that much pain," he said calmly. Then he smirked slightly. "And by the way, I think with you—no, never mind. I shouldn't interfere in mutual matters."
Phils stepped forward, brushing Sam aside. He touched my cheek again, this time softly, and smiled—a smile that carried warning more than comfort.
"From now on," he said quietly, "if you ever speak disrespectfully to someone older than you, I'll personally send you home. Happily. Do you understand?"
His tone was gentle, but the storm behind his eyes told me better than to argue. I wanted to whisper, Yes, please send me home right now, but fear sealed my lips.
He smiled again, stroking my hair, though his smile betrayed his anger. I remembered what I had said to Prince Sam—You idiot!
Lowering my head, I bowed before him. "I'm sorry," I murmured.
But Prince Sam only folded his arms. "No. You called me an idiot—insulted a royal prince in his own palace. You can't be forgiven for that."