Alexander's fever was getting worse.
Elera could feel it even without touching him.
The stranger's breathing had grown uneven, his chest rising and falling in strained rhythm as if every breath required effort. Moonlight slipped through the narrow window of the cabin, painting pale silver across his face.
He looked even more unreal under that light.
Too handsome.
Too dangerous.
Too unfamiliar.
Elera sat beside the bed, fingers twisting the edge of her skirt. She had done everything she knew—cool cloth on his forehead, herbs brewed into bitter medicine, careful bandaging over the wound on his side.
None of it worked.
His skin still burned.
And the old knowledge whispered in the back of her mind.
The last method.
Nurse Agnes had told her about it only once, long ago.
For severe fever when nothing else works...
warmth must replace the burning heat.
Skin to skin.
Elera's heart pounded.
Her cheeks warmed immediately at the thought.
She glanced toward the door as if someone might burst inside the small cabin, though she knew the forest outside was silent. Only the wind whispered through the trees.
No one would see.
Still...
Her fingers trembled.
The stranger shifted slightly on the bed, a faint sound escaping his lips.
A weak groan.
Elera's hesitation shattered.
If she did nothing, he might die before morning.
Slowly, she stood.
Her hands moved to the ties of her dress.
The ribbon loosened beneath her fingers.
Her breathing grew shallow.
"It's only to save him," she whispered softly to herself.
The fabric slipped from her shoulders, slowly. Her golden hair swung as her dress fell.
The cool night air brushed against her skin, making her shiver. She folded the dress carefully beside the bed, as if the quiet act could somehow steady the storm of emotions racing inside her chest.
Elera had never been this close to a man before.
Never like this.
The stranger still lay unconscious, unaware of the turmoil he had caused simply by existing in her quiet life.
She hesitated one last time.
Then slowly climbed onto the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath her weight.
The heat radiating from him was intense, like standing beside a fire.
Carefully, gently, she lay beside him.
Her bare skin brushed his arm.
The contact startled her.
He was burning.
"Gods..." she murmured.
With cautious movements, she shifted closer, pressing her body lightly against his so the warmth of her own skin could begin to draw the fever from him.
His chest rose sharply.
For a moment she froze, afraid he had awakened.
But his eyes remained closed.
Only his breathing changed.
Elera rested her head carefully against his shoulder.
His heartbeat echoed faintly beneath her ear.
Strong.
Steady.
Alive.
Relief washed through her.
Minutes passed slowly.
The quiet cabin filled only with the sound of breathing and the distant whisper of wind beyond the forest walls.
Elera tried to keep her thoughts calm, but it was impossible not to notice things.
The strength of his body.
The way his arm, even in unconsciousness, seemed instinctively protective as it shifted slightly around her waist.
Her breath caught.
His hand rested lightly against her back.
Not tight.
Not forceful.
Just... there.
As if even in sleep, he refused to let her fall away.
Heat crept across her cheeks.
"This is ridiculous," she whispered under her breath.
But she didn't move away.
Instead she allowed herself to relax slightly against him, hoping the closeness would draw the fever out faster.
His breathing slowly began to steady.
The burning heat beneath his skin softened little by little.
Relief spread through Elera's chest.
"It's working," she murmured quietly.
The stranger shifted again.
This time his arm tightened slightly around her.
A soft whisper escaped his lips.
"...don't..."
Elera lifted her head.
"Don't what?" she asked softly, though she knew he could not answer.
His brow furrowed faintly.
"...don't leave..."
The words were barely audible.
Yet they struck something deep inside her heart.
She stared at him in silence.
A man she didn't know.
A wounded stranger who had appeared in the middle of the forest.
And yet in his fevered state... he was asking someone not to leave.
Elera lowered her head slowly back against his chest.
"I'm not leaving," she whispered quietly.
Not tonight.
***
Far away, in the capital of Morve, the air felt very different. Hertwell mansion.
Heavy.
Still.
The grand chamber inside the Hertwell mansion was filled with the scent of medicinal herbs and fading candles.
Baroness Eleanor lay motionless on the bed, her breathing shallow and fragile.
Beside her stood Isabella, her daughter and now Duchess of Ravencrest.
Her dark gown flowed to the floor like a shadow, her expression was sad because of her mother's worsening condition.
Physicians had already done everything they could.
Everyone in the room knew the truth.
She was dying.
Eleanor's eyes opened slowly.
They were weak, clouded with pain, yet still holding a quiet determination.
"Isabella..."
The name escaped her lips like a fragile thread.
Isabella stepped closer immediately.
"I'm here, Mom," she said gently.
Eleanor's fingers trembled as she reached weakly for her.
Isabella took her hand.
It was cold.
Too cold.
"There is something... you must know, my love."
Isabella remained silent, waiting.
Eleanor gathered what little strength she had left.
"Your child..."
The words came slowly.
"...is alive."
For the first time, something flickered across Isabella's face.
Shock.
Real, unmistakable shock.
Eleanor's breathing grew more strained.
"I hid her... years ago... I did it," told her.
Her gaze drifted toward the distant window, as if seeing memories that existed far beyond the room.
"To protect her."
Isabella leaned closer.
"Where is she now, Mother?"
Eleanor's voice was barely a whisper now.
"Agnes, the midwife. Find her, and you will find Elera."
The name hung in the air.
"You must find her, Child. To pay for our sin."
Her fingers tightened weakly around Isabella's hand.
"I know you love her very much." A long breath escaped her lips.
Then another deep breath came.
And then—
Nothing.
The room fell silent.
Lady Eleanor was dead.
The physicians lowered their heads in condolences.
Servants quietly stepped back.
Isabella remained beside the bed.
Her expression shifted slowly.
Sadness first.
Then grief.
She lowered her head, allowing a single tear to fall.
She mourned deeply for her mother's death.
But beneath the sorrow...
Another emotion stirred.
Relief.
And something unbelievable miracle.
So her daughter was alive.
Isabella straightened her face, didn't want to wait anymore. Her voice returned to its usual calm and told her maid.
"Send Captain Rowan here. I need to talk."
The old maid bowed immediately.
"Yes, My Lady."
Minutes later, a tall man in dark armor entered the chamber.
He knelt and asked, "Did you call for me, My Lady?"
Isabella turned toward the window.
"There is someone I want you to find." Isabella smiled happily.
***
Far to the north, near the border where war had scarred the land, the old cathedral stood like a lonely guardian among the hills. This religious place turned into an infirmary after the war occurred.
Inside, Nurse Agnes Whitford moved carefully between rows of wounded soldiers. Along with another psychiatrist.
The cathedral had become a sanctuary for the injured.
Men groaned softly on wooden cots, their bandages stained from battle.
Agnes wiped sweat from her brow as she finished tying a fresh cloth around a soldier's arm.
A messenger approached her.
"Nurse Agnes."
She turned.
"Yes?"
The man bowed slightly.
"I carry orders from Lady Isabella."
Agnes' expression tightened. After a long time, the name fell on her ears.
"Lady Eleanor had been gone."
"Oh my goodness," she said.
"I cannot leave," she said immediately while busy with her patients.
"I insist, Nurse."
"Not now. These men need care."
The messenger nodded.
"I understand."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small folded letter.
"But, please read this letter first. My lady asked you about someone."
Agnes' eyes narrowed slightly.
"Who?"
The messenger unfolded the paper.
"Elera Hertwell. I need to take Lady Elera back safely to Revencrest."
Agnes froze. Just for a moment until Sir Rowan continued his sentence.
"Lady Isabella believes the girl may be staying with you."
Agnes forced herself to remain calm. Elera was Isabella's daughter, impossible for her to hurt Elera. So it's okay to tell him Elera's whereabouts.
"Yes, she did, but not here," she said carefully.
"Where is she?" Rowan asked.
"She stays with my cousin, at Grey Hollow. Yo will find them at Whitford house."
***
The Whitford house stood quiet when the messenger arrived. He knocked firmly.
The door opened to reveal Benjamin and his wife, Marlene.
"Yes?" Benjamins asked. Why did a knight come to his little house.
The man bowed politely.
"I am searching for a girl named Elera."
A flicker of recognition passed between the family members inside the house.
Clara stepped forward quickly.
"You mean me."
The messenger frowned slightly.
"Your name is Elera?"
Clara hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then she nodded.
"Yes."
Behind her, Mr. Whitford remained silent.
Mrs. Whitford looked away.
None of them mentioned the truth.
That the real Elera was not here.
That she had gone into the forest.
Still helping the mysterious stranger hidden in the old cabin beneath the moonlight.
Far away from the world that had suddenly begun searching for her.
Unaware that her quiet life was about to change forever.
To be continue ...