Chapter 42

Athena was caught off guard. She had never even met Kinder. She wondered, “Why would he want to see me?”

Hay looked just as puzzled, and even Michael turned to the steward, Nelson Bates, in surprise.

But the steward ignored them both, standing respectfully and waiting patiently for Athena.

Realizing she had no choice, Athena stood up and said politely, “Nelson, please lead the way.”

She remembered hearing others call the steward “Nelson” when they entered the residence. From his composed demeanor and precise manner, it was clear he was someone Xander trusted deeply. That alone earned her quiet respect.

Managing a place as grand as this was no small task; there had to be something exceptional about him.

And just as she’d guessed, the staff at Xander’s residence didn’t seem rattled by his illness. Everything ran smoothly, calm and orderly.

Nelson led the way at a steady, measured pace. His posture was straight, his steps firm; he carried himself with the bearing of a soldier. If even Nelson was this formidable, it was no wonder people feared Xander.

Before long, Nelson stopped, offering a polite smile. “Please wait here, Lady Athena. I'll announce your arrival.”

Athena nodded. He lifted the curtain and stepped inside.

Even from the doorway, the pungent scent of medicinal herbs hit her. She thought, Xander must be gravely ill!

As she stood there, her mind wandered. Then Nelson returned. “Lady Athena, please come in.”

“Thank you,” she replied softly, nerves tightening in her chest. She still had no idea why Xander wanted to see her.

“Lady Athena, this way,” Nelson said, gently ushering her deeper into the room.

A chill hit her as soon as she stepped inside, and she instinctively pulled her sleeves tighter around her hands.

A soft sound came from the corner. She turned toward it and met a pair of piercing, ice-cold eyes.

In that instant, her breath caught. His gaze was sharp and unyielding, like a blade pressed to her throat. She felt frozen, like prey caught in the sights of a hunter. Even through the silence, the weight of that look felt lethal.

Startled, Athena took a step back and quickly bowed. “Your Highness.”

No response came for a long moment.

Then Nelson stepped forward and gently motioned for her to rise. “No need for such formalities, Lady Athena.”

Athena straightened, her heart pounding in her chest. This wasn’t what she’d expected. Xander, rumored to be on his deathbed, was still handling official affairs himself.

A few strands of hair had come loose around his face, only making his pale features stand out more starkly. His brows were sharp and defined, his eyes deep and unreadable—like a night sky hiding countless secrets.

His high-bridged nose and thin, unsmiling lips only added to the cold intensity he exuded.

A low, muffled cough broke the silence. A faint trace of blood appeared on his lips.

Nelson’s expression changed instantly. “My lord, you should rest.”

“Enough,” Xander said coldly, dabbing the blood with a handkerchief. He didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

He didn’t even look at Nelson. Instead, he tapped a finger lightly on the table. Beside his hand sat a small, lacquered box.

Nelson understood at once. He stepped forward, picked up the box, and brought it to Athena. “Lady Athena, His Highness asked me to give this to you.”

“For me?” Athena blinked, clearly taken aback. She hesitated, unsure whether to accept it. She and Xander had never even met. She wondered, Why would he be giving me anything?

Nelson smiled gently, speaking on the prince’s behalf. “There’s no need to worry, Lady Athena. Do you recall helping an elderly woman some years ago?”

Athena paused. “You mean…?”

“That woman was the Dowager Princess of the Royal Household,” Nelson explained. “She tried to find you afterward, but you had already left Pridence City. She later traveled with His Highness to another city. Now that they’ve returned, she asked Prince Xander to repay that debt on her behalf.”

Athena thought for a moment. Yes—she vaguely remembered something like that.

She had gone up the mountain with Margaret to pray. Along the way, they’d come across an injured older woman. Athena had stopped to tend her wounds, bandaged them, and quietly left. It had been a small act of kindness—she never even caught the woman’s name.

So it had been the Dowager Princess.

Athena gave a faint, slightly bitter smile. Of course the old dowager couldn’t find her; she had already gone to the military camp by then.

Still, the fact that the Dowager Princess had remembered all these years later spoke volumes. She was clearly someone who repaid kindness with sincerity.

“Please accept it, Lady Athena,” Nelson said warmly. His voice was gentle, his expression kind—but the sorrow in his eyes ran deep and unspoken.

Though he tried to hide it, Athena could still feel the heaviness in the air.

She glanced toward the desk where Xander sat. All of this—his suffering—was for the sake of the people of the country.

If not for him leading troops through countless battles, the common people wouldn’t have ever known peace. A man like him—a national hero—shouldn’t be left to waste away from illness. She had to try to save him.

Athena took the box from Nelson and gave him a soft smile. “Nelson, may I speak with His Highness in private for a moment?”

Nelson hesitated. “This…”

He thought, If she says something that upsets Prince Xander, it wouldn’t be a light matter.

“Please don’t worry,” she said quickly, “I won’t take long.” As she spoke, her gaze burned toward Xander, full of quiet resolve.

After a moment of silence, a calm voice sounded from behind the desk. “Granted.”

Nelson gave Athena a respectful gesture, which she returned with a nod. He then took a few steps back and quietly exited the room.

Athena stepped past the screen and slowly approached. Xander had already set aside his documents and was watching her in silence, his eyes sharp and penetrating.

Despite his obvious frailty, the force of his presence hadn’t diminished in the slightest. His face—striking enough to make heaven take notice—was pale, almost translucent.

Beneath his straight nose, his lips were colorless and tightly pressed, carved into a cold, austere line. His black robe, embroidered with subtle dark patterns, hung open just enough to reveal the sculpted lines of his collarbone.

Athena’s gaze held a quiet reverence. She dropped into a graceful curtsy. “Your Highness.”

“Speak,” Xander said—just one word—and then closed his eyes again.

Athena knew exactly what that meant: if what she said held no value, she would be dismissed without hesitation.

“I can cure you,” she said without hesitation.

As expected, Xander opened his eyes, a glint of suspicion flickering in them.

Athena knew he didn’t believe her, so she pressed on, speaking quickly, firmly, “You’ve been experiencing sharp, stabbing pain three inches beneath your ribs—accompanied by dizziness, ringing in your ears, and blurred vision. It started with fatigue, and over time, your mobility has gradually declined.”

Seeing no response, she continued, “By now, you’re likely bedridden. Your senses are beginning to fail. If I’m not mistaken… your vision has already started to fade, hasn’t it?”

Xander’s heart stirred—because everything she said was completely accurate.

He looked at her again, more closely this time. His vision now only extended about two meters. Anything beyond that was already a blur.

The imperial physicians had told him he’d be completely blind within a month. And after that, he would lose all five senses. A slow, inevitable death.

Athena took a step forward and waved her hand in front of his face. In an instant, a strong hand clamped tightly around her wrist.

“Bold,” he said. His voice was quiet, but filled with cold authority.

The pain in her wrist made Athena wince.

He really was like a tiger—dangerous even at the edge of death.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she kept her voice steady. “I meant no offense, Your Highness. I only wish to help. I respect you deeply—not just because you’re a prince, but because you are a general who fought to protect this nation.”

The room fell into utter silence. So quiet she could hear the pounding of her own heart. The pain in her wrist grew sharper, her features tightening in discomfort.

Slowly, she reached her free hand up and gently placed it over his—trying to ease his grip. But the pressure didn’t let up.

The pain radiated up her arm, deep into the bone. It felt like her wrist might shatter at any moment.

Through gritted teeth, Athena managed a bitter smile. “Your Highness, if you don’t let go soon, I’m afraid my hand will break. And if that happens… there may be no one left who can treat your fire poison.”

Her words were truthful, but they earned her only a chilling glance.

“You’re threatening me?” His voice was like ice—calm, but deadly.

Athena could feel the killing intent in the air like a blade pressed to her throat.

“I wouldn’t dare,” she said quickly, her brow furrowed in pain. Her voice softened into a quiet plea. “Your Highness, please release my hand!”