Chapter 474: The Greased Eel

The bitter smell of crushed silver-root and boiled willow bark lingered throughout Philia’s room, sharp and unpleasant enough to cling to the air. Philia sat on the edge of a low velvet couch near the window, his upper body bare as he stared down at his own hands.

His skin was pale, with faint dark-violet veins showing beneath it and spreading in thin, uneven lines around his ribs. They were subtle enough to miss at first glance, but impossible to ignore once noticed.

Valen moved with precision. His fingers were steady as he unraveled the linen wrapped tightly around Philia’s chest, peeling back the final layer to reveal the raw, dark scrape along the side of his chest.

Philia winced softly, a tiny hitch catching in his throat as the air hit the tender skin.

"Hold still, My Lord," Valen murmured quietly, dipping a clean cotton cloth into a bowl of warm, herb-steeped water. He gently dabbed around the edges of the wound, washing away the dried crimson crust. "You’re lucky the bleed didn’t go deeper. Another quarter-inch and you’d be trying to explain a much worse injury to the Crown Prince."

Valen set the damp cloth aside and picked up a fresh roll of clean linen. "It would really save us a lot of trouble if we could just call a royal physician up here for once. One proper ointment and this would heal in three days."

Philia let out a quiet breath, his eyes dropping to the bandage as Valen finished tending to the wound. For a moment, he said nothing, simply watching Valen’s hands move with the same careful attention they always did. Then he gave a small shake of his head.

"You know we can’t do that, Valen," Philia said softly. There was no humor in his voice this time, only a tired sort of acceptance. "If he notices the blood, he’ll ask questions. If he starts asking questions, there will be no easy way to explain it away, and you know what happens after that."

He slowly drew his arm back, resting it against his side as he looked at the dark stains left behind on the linen. "It’s fine. Truly. We knew the risk from the beginning. I knew what could happen when I agreed to this, and so did you. One more injury isn’t going to change that."

Valen scoffed softly, carefully laying a fresh pad of crushed herbs over the temple scrape before beginning the tight, methodical wrap around Philia’s chest. "Point taken. We stick to unlicensed herbalists and illegal ointments."

Philia relaxed slightly into the touch, closing his eyes as Valen tied off the linen knot with an expert flick of his thumbs. "Did anything notable happen while I was stuck in the study with Yerel yesterday?"

"Nothing major," Valen replied, stepping back to clean his hands in a second basin. "Though the palace atmosphere is getting noticeably heavier. The King ordered a double perimeter guard. Every outer wall, every garden gate, even the servant quarters near the lower kitchens."

Philia’s eyes opened slowly, his dark pupils reflecting the flickering candlelight on the nightstand. "Double perimeter? Did something happen?"

"Word among the night watch is that the scouts spotted an intruder," Valen said, wiping his fingers dry on a linen towel. "Or at least, they think they did. No one was caught, no alarms were officially raised, but the King has begun seeing danger in every shadow again. After what happened to Princess Iryna, he fears something worse may follow."

Philia drifted his gaze toward the window, watching the heavy curtains sway gently in the evening breeze. "How good of Karson to pass that detail along to you."

Valen paused, letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh that sounded entirely too exaggerated for the quiet room. He tossed the towel onto a chair and slumped slightly against the heavy bedpost, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Unfortunately, My Lord, that didn’t come from Sir Karson," Valen grumbled, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "I had to coax that information from one of the younger guards in the barracks. A bottle of tonic to restore his strength was enough to loosen his tongue."

Philia tilted his head, a faint, amused smile touching his face. "Oh? And where was Karson?"

"Sprinting away from me like a greased eel," Valen muttered under his breath, though there was an unmistakable hint of fondness beneath his tone, a rare softness for a man who seldom let his feelings show. "I swear, the man could scarcely bear to remain in the same room as me. We had barely spoken for ten minutes before he fled."

Philia let out another soft laugh, pulling his loose linen shirt back over his shoulders and buttoning it up to his collar to hide the dark lines on his chest. "You’re still being remarkably stubborn about him, aren’t you?"

"Why shouldn’t I be?" Valen asked smoothly, pushing off the bedpost and stepping closer to help Philia adjust his cuffs. "I look great. And together, we would look rather splendid. Surely even you can see the sense in that, My Lord."

Philia shook his head, looking up at his attendant with a warm, genuine softness in his eyes. "Karson is a complicated man, Valen. His sense of duty is practically welded to his ribs. What good does it do for him to keep hanging onto Flio? Flio is on the opposite side of this entire war board. They both know it, yet Karson can’t bring himself to sever that last string."

Valen’s banter quieted down, his expression settling into something softer, heavier, as he smoothed down the lapel of Philia’s shirt. "I know," Valen murmured softly. "I see the way he looks whenever Sir Flio’s name comes up in passing. It’s like watching a man drown in two inches of water."

"First love is very hard to forget," Philia said gently, his voice dropping into a quiet, understanding whisper. "It sits in your chest long after it should have burned out. You can’t force him to let go before he’s ready."

Valen went quiet at that. For once, there was no clever remark ready on his tongue. His gaze dropped to the floor.

Philia watched him for a moment before reaching out and resting his hand against Valen’s forearm. He gave it a gentle squeeze, his fingers lingering there in quiet reassurance.

"I didn’t mean that you should give up," Philia said softly. "I only mean that you can’t make the choice for him."

Valen looked down at Philia’s hand, then slowly back at him.

"I know," he replied.

"I’m rooting for you," Philia added, a warm, genuine smile gracing his pale face. "Both of you deserve something real in this place. We will all achieve our happiness eventually, Valen. No matter how much blood we have to cross to get there."