John was running as swiftly as he could, hoping to catch up to her. How could she vanish so quickly? Yet, as he retraced his steps along that familiar path, he found himself before the quiet, secluded walkway once more. He felt an overwhelming need to discover whether she had ventured that way. With a deep breath, he pressed onward along the stony road, where the lake shimmered beneath the moonlight. And there, by the bank near the bridge, she was.
There, by the water's edge, just as she had been before. Her silhouette was bowed, her face cradled in her hands, the wind teasing loose strands of her hair. His chest tightened. Was she weeping? The thought sent a sharp ache through him.
Hesitant, he stepped forward. The crunch of gravel beneath his boots made her flinch.
"Doctor?" he called softly.
She flinched and turned abruptly towards the source of the sound. Annoyance trickled into her expressions as soon as her eyes landed on him. Why did fate insist on bringing her into contact with him when she yearned for solitude?
"What brings you here, sire?" Her voice was cool, edged with forced civility.
He swallowed. "Are you alright?"
"I am fine."
The lie was brittle. He took another step, drawn to her despite knowing her irritation with his presence at the moment. "You do not appear fine."
She exhaled sharply. "Must you persist, your highness? I have asked only for solitude."
"I apologize for disturbing you, but I felt compelled to seek your welfare. I had to see for myself ….." His voice dropped, rough with concern. "Tell me. Please. Are you truly unharmed?"
For a heartbeat, she wavered. Then, reluctantly: "Yes. Truly."
A gust of wind swept between them, sending a shiver through her. Without thought, he shrugged off his coat and stepped closer. The scent of bergamot and parchment—unmistakably him—wrapped around her as he draped the fabric over her shoulders. His fingers brushed the curve of her collarbone, lingering a second too long before he forced himself to withdraw.
Fool. His own recklessness unnerved him.
"Will you stop at nothing?" he murmured.
Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You intend to journey to Sereath at any cost, do you not?" he pressed, his eyes searching hers for the truth.
"Indeed," she affirmed with unwavering determination.
"But His Majesty remains opposed? Though he has shown kindness, he may yet attempt to restrain you by whatever means he can. He is not one to rethink his decisions—not even if one were to plead with him a thousand times. Of that, I am quite certain."
"I don't care," she responded. She met his gaze and declared, "I shall go forward, regardless of the consequences. I believe this is something I must do, and I will find a way to see it through. I do not fear the power of His Majesty. His Majesty may not choose to rethink his decision, but that changes nothing for me. Please Your Highness, if you are here to try and change my mind do not attempt to do so. My mind is already made up. I can not back down, for it is integrity and strength that truly define a person. Without it what even is my value?"
"Integrity and strength is what defines a person." John smiled as he repeated her words.
Then, before he could second-guess himself, he took her hand. The warmth of her skin sent a jolt through him. Slowly—so slowly—he raised her fingers to his lips. The kiss he pressed there was featherlight, yet it burned. His breath lingered against her knuckles, his restraint fraying with every second he did not pull away.
"Very well," he said as he stepped back finally "My lady, never lose that spirit of yours. It is what renders you truly beautiful. Have you already completed the plasma treatment development?"
"Yes. But why do you inquire?" she asked, a note of caution creeping into her voice.
"Fear not; my intentions are pure. I wish only to assist you. Strive to summarize your work swiftly, and in the meantime, I shall endeavor to persuade the court's minister of the necessity of your journey to Sereath. If His Majesty has denied you, do not act in haste. Allow me to gather allies, and I shall apply pressure to secure your passage. Even if he is the King he can't dismiss the royal court."
Mey regarded him intently, seeking to decipher the sincerity of his expression. All she found was honesty. Why was he suddenly advocating for her when he had always adhered to the rigid protocols? He had been a staunch enforcer of the rules. What had shifted within him?
"Why would you champion my cause?" she finally asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
"Because," John replied, thinking over his own reasonings, "you are right. His Majesty has lost sight of his priorities. His actions stem from personal biases. Moreover just like you said a person must live with purpose. To follow one's own path, unrestrained—that is how life ought to be lived. I just… Its just that you inspired me."
For a long moment, she was silent. Then, with sudden fervor, she seized his hands. The sudden contact shocked him.
"Wha..What?" he barely managed to stutter that one word.
"Thank you," she breathed, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "Your Highness. I vow you shall not regret placing your trust in me," she declared, bowing gracefully before hastily departing. She was running to the wards. Finally, there was a chance!!
John stood frozen in place, watching her retreating figure as she moved farther and farther. The wind howled around him, fluttering his auburn hair. The warmth of her grasp lingered in his hands. He sighed recollecting himself, shaking his head slightly. Was this decision to act on his impulsive emotions correct?