Waking up was a mistake.
The first thing Aiden was aware of was pain. It was a dull, all-over ache that sharpened into a fiery protest every time he took a breath. The second thing he was aware of was the scent of antiseptic herbs and his mother's perfume—a combination that meant he was in his own bed, but he was in deep, maternal trouble.
He opened his eyes. Queen Isolde was sitting in a chair beside his bed, her face etched with worry. She was holding a bowl of soup and a spoon, looking at him as if he were a fragile, broken bird.
"Aiden! You're awake!" she whispered, immediately setting the bowl down and pressing a cool hand to his forehead. "Don't you dare move. The healer said you have three cracked ribs, a severe concussion, and enough cuts to qualify you as a puzzle. You will lie there and you will be pampered."
"Mother, I'm fine," he croaked, trying to sit up.
"YOU ARE NOT FINE!" she shrieked, gently but firmly pushing him back onto the pillows. "You flew into a nest of monsters and got yourself beaten half to death! You are grounded from life, young man!"
Before Aiden could formulate a reply, the door to his chambers burst open. It was Rina, carrying a tray with a tall glass of what looked like beet juice.
"I brought you something to help with your blood!" she announced brightly, tripping over the edge of the rug. The glass wobbled precariously.
"Rina, be careful!" the Queen cried.
Rina, in her attempt to steady the glass, overcorrected. The tray tilted, and the deep red liquid sloshed out, splashing all over Aiden's pristine white bandages and the bedsheets. It looked like he had been bleeding out all over again.
"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" Rina wailed, her face crumbling.
"It's quite alright, dear," the Queen said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness as she tried to dab at the mess with a handkerchief. "We can just... change the entire bed. With Aiden in it."
Aiden just closed his eyes and prayed for a swift, painless end.
His prayer was not answered. The door opened again. Lyra glided in, her eyes immediately locking onto Aiden. She ignored the Queen and the beet-juice disaster. She saw the Queen's hands on his pillow and the mess on his bandages.
"Step away from him," Lyra said, her voice low and dangerous. "You are agitating his energy field. You are hindering his recovery."
The Queen stared at her. "His... what? Young lady, I am his mother! I will not 'step away' from my own son!"
"Your emotional turmoil is disruptive," Lyra stated, moving to the other side of the bed and placing her hands just above his chest, not touching him, as if she were trying to realign his aura. "He needs quiet. He needs my protection."
"He needs a healer and a clean bandage, not a... a mystical head massage!" the Queen shot back.
Just then, Talia stomped in, carrying a clean roll of bandages and a pitcher of water. She took in the scene: the Queen fussing, Rina crying, and Lyra hovering over Aiden like a gargoyle.
"Are you all trying to kill him again?" she muttered, shoving the water pitcher onto the nightstand. "Here. For when he's thirsty. Not that any of you would think of something so practical." She pointedly looked at Aiden. "I only brought this because the King ordered me to. Don't get any ideas."
Aiden managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Talia."
Talia's face flushed. "It's just water! It's not a declaration of loyalty!" she snapped, turning away so he wouldn't see her blush.
Eira was the next to enter, moving with her usual calm. She observed the chaos with a detached curiosity. "His vital signs are elevated," she noted clinically. "The stress from this... social interaction... is likely counterproductive to cellular regeneration. Fascinating."
And finally, Seraphine. She swept in, her movements elegant and unhurried. She took one look at Aiden, pale and bandaged, and a slow, appreciative smile spread across her face.
"Well, well," she purred, gliding to his bedside and completely ignoring everyone else. She leaned in close, her voice a low whisper meant only for him. "All this pale skin, the slow, steady pulse... you look absolutely delectable, Aiden. Are you sure you wouldn't like a more... intimate form of healing?"
Aiden's eyes widened. He was trapped. He had a smothering mother, a crying klutz, a psychic bodyguard, a blushing warrior, a science project, and a thirsty vampire, all vying for his attention.
He had reached his limit.
"EVERYONE," he yelled, his voice cracking with the effort. "OUT! ALL OF YOU! OUT!"
The room fell silent. They all stared at him, stunned.
"Now!" he commanded.
The Queen looked like she wanted to argue, but one look from her son—a look of pure, unadulterated exhaustion—made her think better of it. She huffed, straightened her skirts, and swept out, followed by a still-apologizing Rina. Talia grabbed the empty beet juice glass and stomped out. Eira gave him a curious nod and departed. Lyra lingered for a moment, her eyes full of conflict, before she too bowed her head and left.
Only Seraphine remained. She gave him a wink. "We'll continue this conversation later, Your Highness." Then she turned and sashayed out, closing the door softly behind her.
Silence. Blessed, beautiful silence.
Aiden lay back in his beet-juice-stained bed, his body aching, his head throbbing. He was alone. And he had never been more grateful.
He looked at the closed door, a small, weary smile touching his lips. He had gone to the Spine Mountains to save a dragon's honor. He had returned with a squadron of chaotic, complicated, and fiercely loyal women.
He had wanted to save them. Now, he wasn't so sure who was saving whom.