Golden Hour | Mark Lee

9

A couple weeks later, that moment came to pass.

It began with rushed voices outside the door of the infirmary, and then the sound of the doors being flung open as the prince stormed into the room. His expression was desperate, his eyes frantic as he searched the room.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, striding towards you, panic lacing his voice.

You stood up, frowning as Mark stopped in front of you, his eyes searching your face with unbridled desperation.

"She's out." you said. "Mark, what's wrong?"

He ran his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. "It's my father." he said. "Something's wrong with him-he's sick. We need you."

You nodded, gathering supplies into your apothecary's bag. "Take me to him."

The king's room inside the royal quarters was deathly silent, disturbed only by the queen's restless pacing and his youngest son's stifled cries.

The queen frowned as you entered, but you ignored her, moving to the king's side. He was pale, sweat dotting his forehead. When you moved his head to the side, blood dotted the pillow where blood seeped from his ear. You placed your hand to his forehead, his skin burning with fever. You frowned, then pulled the blankets back to reveal his arm.

You pulled his sleeve back, and you felt all your breath rush from your lungs as the sight of his blackened fingertips. You dropped his arm and stumbled back, gasping in horror.

"Stay back." you croaked. "Who's touched him in the past day?"

Mark was frowning, and looked back to the rest of his family, all of which shook their heads, fear clouding their features.

"None of us. Why? Y/N, what's wrong?"

All at once, the visions you'd been having all through the last year came flooding back. The blood staining the stone floor, a raven's caw and its black feathers drenched in blood, spread across the castle ground. You stared at the king in horror, and brought the hand you used to touch him up, turning it. Your eyes caught sight of the small scar on the tip of your index finger, where you'd pricked delicate skin upon the rose's thorns. You inhaled, and turned to face the royal family, avoiding Mark's pleading eyes.

"It's the plague." you announced, your voice wavering. "He has the plague, and I'd bet my life he's not the only one in the castle."

The queen's eyes widened in horror, and she took a step back from the king's bed, her expression hardening.

"We must close down the castle. No one may come or leave until we're sure the plague is dead." She turned to you, and you were surprised to see a hint of guilt tinging her dark eyes as they travelled to your hand hanging limply by your side.

"I'm sorry." she said. "You'll have to stay here. We can't know... that you're not infected."

You felt tears sting your eyes, because you knew the queen was right. Mark's eyes flitted desperately between you and his mother, his expression stricken.

"Take care of my mother. Please." you begged, your voice quiet. The queen gave a slight nod, before she turned to her children.

"We'll go to the saferoom." she said. "Nobody touch each other."

But suddenly Mark straightened up, his gaze strong. "I'm staying here." he stated. "I won't leave."