“You seem to know your way around pretty well.”

The palace is a sprawling area filled with countless halls and rooms. Not to mention the myriad hidden passageways used by the residential staff. All this contributing to it being a veritable maze to those unfamiliar with the place, purposely designed to confuse possible invaders. Especially for someone who is supposed to be new to the place. And yet, Erica has been walking forward confidently, eyes focused on the path ahead. 

Pink eyes widen with panic. “O-Oh, is it actually this way? I was just guessing.”

Yves raises an eyebrow in disbelief. What good instincts she must have. 

Not. 

The more he pays attention to her, the more questions are raised. That unnatural strength. The ability to speak the imperial language, one restricted to the nobility. The knowledge of an event that was never publicly announced. 

Her baffling loyalty to him, one that surpasses her own survival.

How has he not questioned her oddities before? Has he truly been so blinded by his own goals? Eyes too set forward, unwilling to glance at anything else? Maybe he should’ve pressed her for more answers back then.

Looking at how tightlipped she is now, he doubts it’d be much of a fruitful endeavor. 

“We’re here.”

There shouldn’t be anyone in the physician's office, not this late at night, but it doesn’t stop them from slowly opening the door. When a cautious peek reveals the room to be empty, they slip inside.

Erica makes a beeline towards the rolls of bandages, while Yves takes the time to study the room. The walls are still lined with cubby holes, filled with packets of both fresh and dried herbs, ready to be compounded into medicine. Jars of unrecognizable powders sit atop messy stacks of textbooks, and Yves is mildly concerned at the precarious position of the towering mess. He’d have to step carefully here, lest he alert the entire kingdom with the shattering of them all from one misstep. 

Honestly, what a wreck this place is. Some of the jars weren’t even labeled, and those that were had illegible scribbles that might as well be useless. If he were to switch a few of the jars around, would anyone even notice?

Clearly, this place is just as chaotic as it was in his memories. 

He hasn’t been here in such a long time, as far as he can remember. Back then, in his previous life, there were memories of constant visits to this place in order to fetch his mother’s daily medicine, and he distinctly recalls scampering through the halls while carefully clutching the package to his chest. That too soon stopped after her death. 

A lot of things did. 

At least this place does not hold too terrible memories for him. Instead, the familiar medicinal scent tickles his nose, sending a pang of nostalgia in him. 

The physician back then had always handed the parcel of herbs over to him with a piece of candy tucked in between the wrapping as well. A bit of sweetness to cheer him up whenever his mother was particularly ill. That person, too, was soon replaced with the current physician who was far more stringent about health. Virtually all of the staff had been replaced since his mother’s death. Those that weren’t were placed under strict vows of silence. 

Yves makes a mental note to track down some of the former staff in the future. Perhaps some of them may know something about his mother’s circumstances. A shame they were all mostly scattered throughout the kingdom, monumentally difficult if not outright impossible to find.

Erica makes a triumphant sound, turning to meet him with rolls of gauze and a small jar of ointment. “Got it!”

Yves gestures for her to get on with it, idly watching as she smears ointment on her bruises. Huh. There aren't as many as he’d thought there’d be, considering the rough welcome she’d gone through. He could’ve sworn there were more scrapes than that. Even the shallow nicks on her throat were few in number, now that the blood had been wiped off. 

How long will it be until she sustains no injury? When the mere sight of her is enough to end any fight? He’s actually never met her when she wasn’t at the peak of her strength. Back when she had joined his little group, she’d already made a name for herself as someone to be reckoned with. Someone who….inexplicably decided to insert herself into his ranks.

Now, though, she struggles to wrap her wrist one handedly, wincing when she tries to pin one end of the gauze down. Just when she is nearly done wrapping, the edge of it slips free, and the entire thing unravels. He can’t stand this any longer. 

"People with greater magic reserves heal faster than those that don't."

He hadn’t planned on disclosing this just yet, but he’s already revealed his shadow manipulation powers. His ability to heal himself was tamer in comparison. Less likely to garner cries of witchcraft. There were divine powers, and there was magic. Healing is an ability solely held by those with divine powers, or so most people thought. If word got out of his abilities, he’d gain far too much attention of the wrong kind. 

Even if it didn’t quite have the potential divine powers would have. Minor scrapes and bruises were the limit of his abilities, too focused on the deadlier aspects of it to ever focus on anything else. Magic is nothing in the face of disease, of chronic conditions in an already frail body. It could never bring the dead back. His mother was a prime example of that.

People don’t take kindly to those with strange abilities when they weren’t of the heavenly kind. He’s seen it first hand with his mother, after all. There were still whispers of the odd woman who bewitched the poor king into bringing her into the palace, of how she must be more than human to ensnare someone so thoroughly. His mother never let it bothered her, simply smiling serenely whenever he glanced at her in worry. 

But. He’d already revealed his ability to manipulate shadows, so what was one more secret? Besides, who would ever believe some commoner over a prince, no matter how politically weak he may be?

She squints at him. "Ok...? In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any magic."

Yves rolls his eyes. No shit. Back in their previous lives, he’d once entertained the thought that her freakish strength was due to some unheard of application of magic. Except when he checked, she truly was void of any signs of it. And he’s checked, several times at that.

Even as weak as that fledgling mage had been, he’d still felt that innate sense of connection when he’d wielded his magic. A vague sense of recognition and familiarity that went bone deep. Something he’s never experienced with Erica, even when studying her up close. 

There is not a single ounce of magic in her. She was simply a freak of nature. Which is why… 

"I can transfer some of mine to you to help boost your healing."

He's never seen a person pale at such an alarming rate. 

"No." Erica shakes her head emphatically, drawing away from him and cradling her hand to herself. “I-I’m fine, actually. It’s just a scratch.”

Twitchy at the sight of her moving away, he takes a step forward.

“It’ll be quick. Won’t hurt at all.”

Probably. He’s actually never tried it before. Why would he ever heal someone else? This time, however, he thinks it might be a good idea to at least test out the theory. See if he can replicate the hero’s ability to heal his allies. It can’t be too hard. If those with higher magical reserves heal faster than those without, it only stands to reason that transferring some of his magic, no matter how temporarily, will help Erica heal as well. 

In fact, why stop at healing? If he were to let his magic seep into her, maybe he can figure out the secret behind her strength and replicate it for himself.

If he could make sure they both reach the peak of their powers, if he could remove all future impeding injuries… Maybe then, they could prevent their untimely end. 

With that thought in mind, he tries to reach for her hand, but she smacks him away. 

“I said, no!”

There’s enough force behind her strike for something to crack, and the sound makes her pale further. Yves swears in pain.

“What the fuck?” Yves clutches his hand in pain, doubling over with a muffled cry. Sharp, searing pain lances through him, and it takes all he’s got to not curse too loudly, lest someone is alerted. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Fine, fine. He won’t heal her. See if he ever goes out of his way to help her again. Ungrateful brat. Lesson learned. Listen to the girl with the monstrous strength when she says no the first time.

It takes him a few minutes before he gets his breathing under control, when he can think beyond the white hot pain. What kind of guard harms their charge instead of protecting them? He ought to ream her out for the offense.

She stares at his hand with such bone deep horror, it makes Yves feel guilty for snapping at her. And he’s the one injured. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Ugh. Stop looking at him like that. It’s almost worse than the pain. Besides, isn’t this the perfect opportunity to have her indebted to him?

Yves cuts her off by raising his hand. One of his fingers bends the wrong way, and the lancing pain is enough for him to want to let loose another string of curses. A look at Erica’s stricken expression is enough to silence him, however. He sighs. 

With some focus, the swelling and discoloration fades away, leaving behind pristine skin and more importantly, intact bones. It’s a little disconcerting though, watching the bones snap their way back into place. He flexes his fingers in further display. There’s still phantom pain that lingers, his brain remembering how easily his bone had broken. Other than that, he is the picture of health.

“See? All gone.”

When she still remains silent, not reassured in the slightest, Yves rolls his eyes. Grabs the roll of bandages that had fallen away and tosses it at her head. As expected, she catches it automatically. “I’m fine. It’s on me for not listening to you the first time. If you really feel bad about it, then just keep your mouth shut about my abilities.”

She clings to the roll and nods frantically. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Good. One less risk for him. He really would prefer to keep the number of people who knew his full capabilities to the bare minimum. Yves does not need more people scrutinizing him like they did his mother. The less known about his abilities, the more freedom that allows him with his plans. 

He watches her fumble with the bandage for a few more moments before frustration gets the best of him. “Oh for— Give it here. If you don't want to be healed, then let me wrap it up at least. We’ll be here all night at this rate.”

“You don’t have to stay here.”

Yves gives her an unimpressed look before swiping the roll away from her. He’s not going to leave her alone now, not when he’s already decided to follow her around. 

Erica watches him with a skeptical eye, but remains still even as he moves closer. When he gestures for her hand, she holds it out obediently, if not mildly cautious. Any resistance she might have had subdued in the lingering guilt from his now healed injury. 

Hmm, so guilt is something he could use as leverage against her. Something to bend her to his will, if physical force isn’t an option. 

Good to know. 

Yves takes her hand, tilting it this way and that to examine the lovely blooming bruise. After fretting over him, Erica finally settles down enough to study him in return.

“Do you even know how to wrap bandages? Don’t you have fancy doctors for that?”

Just for that, he’s going to wrap it extra tight. Of course he knows how. Who else would care for his own wounds in his previous life, far away from the palace as it was? 

…He doesn’t end up wrapping it extra tightly, if only to prove his capability. Instead, he is careful in smearing the ointment in a thick layer over the bruises, placing a layer of gauze atop it before winding the bandages around. It’s alright, though. There will be far more opportunities to take vengeance in the future.

“Don’t keep this on all the time,” he says, tapping the compression bandage. “If you need help changing the dressings, come to me.”

In fact, maybe he should have her check in with him every day. Just until she was fully recovered, of course. It’d be a good way to keep an eye on her, both to pry out her secrets and ensure her health. His guard needed to be in tip top shape, after all.

Erica makes an impressed sound, carefully rotating her wrist around as she inspects his work. She won’t find a single flaw in the neat wrapping, he thinks smugly. “Where did you learn? Don’t you have your healing thing? I didn’t think princes got injured very often either.”

“...I don’t like getting treated by other people.” He avoids the rest of her questions. It’s true enough, he supposes. Why risk being in debt to someone if he could do it himself? It’s not like he was lacking in opportunities to practice back then, back when he still hadn’t quite figured out how to heal himself. There was plenty of time to perfect this little skill of his.

The world did not take kindly to runaway children, especially little princes clueless to the world outside the palace walls. His unusual coloring and…particularly eyecatching features didn’t quite help in blending in either. While it was a bit of a rough start, he soon learned to fend for himself. Made others fear him instead. So of course he can do something as simple as compression bandaging. He’s had to deal with far worse, after all.

Yves shakes his head. That’s enough reminiscing about the past. “Are you done? We should at least get some sleep tonight.”

Erica looks at him for a moment longer before she nods. “Mhhm. Let’s go.”

Curiosity still burns in her gaze, but Yves ignores it. Tough luck. He’s not answering any more questions tonight. She can be the one with unanswered questions tonight for a change.