The physician gave a sharp, resolute nod. "I understand. I will do everything in my power to keep him stable, but you must hurry."
"Eilika, let’s go," Sylvian urged, impatience radiating off him.
"Joanna," Eilika called out, turning to the maid. "If Roman asks for , tell him I have gone to bring the dicine. Tell him not to be scared. He needs to stay brave." She cast one last, lingering gaze at her mother-in-law, a silent vow to return with the cure passed between them.
Without waiting for a response, she and Sylvian turned and hurried out of the room. As they crossed the grand hall, Maurice, who had just stepped in from outside to check on the Duke’s condition, stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened as he took in their determined expressions and travel-ready attire.
"Your Grace? Sylvian?" Maurice called out, his voice thick with alarm. "Is the Duke—?"
"Where are you two going?" Maurice asked, his voice stern as he intercepted them near the heavy oak doors.
"To seek Prince August," Eilika answered, not breaking her stride. "The distance is imnse, but we have no other choice."
"Wait!" Maurice stepped forward, effectively blocking their path and forcing them to skid to a halt.
"We do not have ti for explanations, Maurice," Sylvian snapped. "Damian is dying."
"And you will waste precious hours if you continue down that path," Maurice replied, his eyes locked with theirs. "You are heading in the wrong direction. Prince August is not where you two think. He is in Varos."
"What?" Eilika and Sylvian exclaid in shock in unison.
"I’ll take the Duchess," Maurice stated. "Prince Sylvian, you stay here. We can make better ti by car."
Sylvian nodded, stepping back to give them room. Maurice held the car door open for Eilika. As soon as she was inside, he slid into the driver’s seat, starting the engine before they sped away from the estate.
"Your Grace," Maurice began, his eyes fixed on the road as he navigated the sharp turns, "how did you discover that the cure lies with Prince August? And what is your plan to obtain it from him?"
"Sylvian told ," Eilika replied, gripping the edge of the seat as the car picked up speed. "He said Prince August possesses an unmatched knowledge of rare herbs. If anyone in this kingdom has the Frost Lily, it is him."
She went on to recount the physician’s grim diagnosis and the desperate race against ti.
"Your Highness, consider the reality," Maurice said. "Prince August harbors a deep, festering grudge against everyone who bears the royal na. His banishnt ends in a single day, he has every reason to watch the Duke suffer, or perhaps even ensure it."
Eilika felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. "I have no other option. I will offer him anything he desires."
Maurice tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the darkening road ahead. "He is a man of secrets, Your Highness. Getting him to part with the cure will be the hardest task you’ve ever faced."
Eilika shifted in her seat, her gaze narrowing as she studied Maurice’s profile in the dim light of the dashboard. "How do you know he is in Varos? And why are you so certain of his current whereabouts? Was the Duke... investigating him?"
Maurice hesitated for a heartbeat, the silence stretching tight between them as the engine humd. He finally t her eyes in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. "The Duke was a man of great foresight, Your Highness. He kept files on everyone who could potentially threaten the estate, and Prince August was always considered a significant point of interest."
"This attack... I cannot fathom who would orchestrate sothing so ruthless. Have you discovered anything regarding the maid?" Eilika asked.
"None yet," Maurice answered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "But I have n searching. I am confident she will be apprehended by the ti we return to the estate."
Eilika sent a silent prayer for Damian’s safety. Her body trembled, and her heart hamred against her ribs, but she forced herself to mask her fear. She needed to be strong for him; she could not afford to crumble now.
She stared out the window, her gaze fixed on the passing darkness, praying they would reach August’s residence soon.
Three hours of grueling silence passed before the car finally pulled up in front of a remote, weather-beaten cottage tucked far beyond the city limits.
As they stepped out into the biting night air, Maurice turned to her, his expression grim. "Your Grace," he warned, "be careful. We are walking into a hungry lion’s den."
"Hmm." Eilika nodded, and the two approached the front door. Maurice knocked firmly while his free hand drifted toward the pistol concealed beneath his coat. They stood in the stillness, but there was no response.
"Are you certain he is here?" Eilika whispered, her nerves fraying.
"He was, as of yesterday," Maurice replied quietly. Seeking another way to alert the inhabitant, he scanned the porch until he found an old, rusted bell tucked away near the fra. He pulled the cord, and the sharp chi cut through the night air.
Finally, the door creaked open. A middle-aged man stepped out, holding a lantern aloft to inspect them.
"We seek Prince August," Eilika stated, stepping forward with as much composure as she could muster. "I am Eilika, the Duchess of Varos."
"Let us see Prince August. It is urgent," Maurice requested this ti.
The man ushered them into the foyer. "Take your seats. Prince August is resting upstairs."
Eilika and Maurice nodded, but they refused to sit. They remained alert, scanning the shadows, unsure of what they might be walking into. Monts later, the sound of heavy footsteps drew their attention to the staircase. August descended, dressed in silk robes, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"I heard the Duchess of Varos has co to call at this ungodly hour," August said, his voice laced with irony.
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