𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞

21. Poisoned

Aiore's horse galloped through the dark woods, carrying him and Arielle toward a small, secluded hut nestled deep in the forest. The rain poured heavily, but Aiore pressed on, his heart racing. He couldn't lose her. Not now. Not after realizing what she meant to him. His usually calm demeanor had shattered into panic as he glanced down at Arielle's pale face.

Arriving at the old, small house, Aiore dismounted with Arielle in his arms, rushing to the door. He pushed it open with his elbow, using more force than necessary, startling the old woman inside.

"You're a prince, but you have no manners!" the old lady scolded, shaking her head. She widened her eyes in surprise when she saw the girl in his arms. She hurriedly said, "Put her down over there, on the mat."

Aiore, breathing heavily, ignored her scoldings as he carefully laid Arielle on the mat. The old woman approached, her sharp eyes inspecting Arielle's blue-tinged lips.

"Please save her!" Aiore's voice cracked, his calm façade nowhere to be found.

The old woman kept her gaze on Arielle, her hands already moving to check her pulse. "Calm down," she said, but the urgency in her actions betrayed her own worry. "You said it was you they were about to poison. How did she end up drinking it?"

Aiore's throat tightened. He recalled how the night before, he had come to this same woman to acquire a potion that could neutralize any poison, a precaution he took when he heard rumors of the queen's plot. He never expected that Arielle, the woman he thought might be involved in that plot, would sacrifice herself.

"She drank it," he managed to say, his voice strained. "I couldn't stop her in time."

The old woman's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "She must love you dearly, then." She placed something into Arielle's mouth, administering her treatment with quick precision. "That's a dangerous poison," the old woman said, her voice grim. "A very difficult one to cure."

Aiore clenched his fists. "I don't care what it takes. I'll do anything you say to save her. Even if it costs me my life."

The old woman paused, glancing at him with wide eyes. "Your life? You'd give your life for her?" She was astonished. The prince, known for being cold and detached, now knelt beside this girl with desperation in his eyes.

Who is she? The woman wondered.

Aiore's voice was firm, without hesitation as he stated, "Without her, my life is meaningless."

For the first time, the old woman seemed to really look at Arielle, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Who is this girl, that she can melt the ice around your heart?" she murmured. "I never thought anyone could bring out emotions in you."

The old woman was quiet for a moment, reflecting as she applied a paste on Arielle's body. Aiore once saved her life when the villagers in her hometown wanted to burn her alive, assuming she was a witch because of her abilities to save those on the brink of death. They believed it was magic. "You risked everything to help me survive. I won't ask anything in return. Consider this as repaying that debt."

She worked tirelessly through the night, using every skill she had to cleanse the poison from Arielle's system. Aiore stayed by Arielle's side, assisting the old woman however he could. Though he was silent, his mind was a whirlwind of emotions.

As the old woman treated Arielle, her wise eyes lingered on Aiore. "Why do you want to save her so badly? Is it because she saved your life?" she asked, her voice soft yet probing. She had observed Aiore long enough to know that there was something deeper behind his desperation.

It was love!

She could feel how much he loved Arielle, and she wanted him to realize it himself.

Aiore's lips parted, but he hesitated. His mind was flooded with memories of Arielle-the times she smiled at him, talked to him, every single moment they shared. Why did she risk her life for him? Did she love him? His heart was conflicted, afraid to believe it.

"I just want to know why..." Aiore whispered, almost to himself. "Why did she save me?"

The old woman nodded knowingly, saying no more, as the silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the faint sound of Arielle's breathing.

Back in the palace:

Aldith stood before his mother, Queen Ezra, in the royal chambers, the tension between them palpable. He had waited until they were alone before speaking.

"Mother," Aldith said quietly, "were you behind this? The poisoning?"

Queen Ezra's sharp eyes flashed with a brief moment of surprise, but she quickly composed herself, her lips curving into a cold smile.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed at first, but Aldith's unwavering gaze pinned her down. "And what if I was?" she added, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I did it for you."

"For me?" Aldith echoed, horrified. "What could possibly justify this?"

Her face twisted in anger. "I did it because you should be king, not that bastard Aiore!"

Aldith clenched his fists. "Aiore is not a bastard. He is a legitimate son of the king, and you know it better than me."

"His mother died when he was just a toddler. I am the queen now, and you are my son. You are the one who deserves the throne, not him!" Her voice shook with bitterness, her eyes burning with ambition. "I won't allow him to take what belongs to you."

"I don't want the throne!" Aldith's voice rose, startling even himself. "Why can't you be satisfied with being the queen? Why isn't it enough?"

The queen's eyes narrowed. "What about Arielle?" she hissed. "Don't you love her? Do you think she'll marry a prince with no title, with no future?" Her voice dripped with disdain. "She's the only daughter of a powerful duke's family. They'll never let her marry a useless prince who has nothing to offer!"

Aldith froze. His mother's words stabbed at his heart. He had always known his feelings for Arielle, but he never thought it would come to this.

The queen's laughter echoed in the chamber, cold and taunting. "Don't be so naïve, Aldith. Without power, you are nothing. And without power, you will lose her."

Her words rattled him to his core, but he stayed silent, torn between his love for his mother and the dawning realization that she was more dangerous than he had ever imagined.

-----

As the night continued, Aiore stayed awake, never leaving Arielle's side. His emotions, something he had long kept buried, now surged within him. For the first time, he admitted to himself that Arielle was the one who made him feel alive. She brought warmth to his cold world. And now, as she lay between life and death, he realized he couldn't imagine his life without her.

The old woman finished the last of her treatment, her hands steady as she wiped her brow. "She should survive," the old woman said, though there was still caution in her tone. "But it's up to her now."

Aiore, exhausted but relieved, whispered, "Thank you."

He took Arielle's hand, feeling its warmth slowly return. He held it tightly, as if it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

Arielle's chest rose and fell slowly, her breathing finally stabilizing. Aiore didn't move, his grip firm but gentle. He couldn't yet put a name to what he was feeling, but he knew one thing for certain: He didn't want to lose her.