Even though her identity had been laid bare, Dasha couldn’t leave the temporary treatment room for a while. It was because Prince Morres’s condition seemed more serious than she had thought.
‘I had heard that his condition was bad enough for His Majesty to keep him in the main palace, but…’
She never expected to see someone who was conversing normally suddenly collapse with a high fever.
But while she was flustered and didn’t know what to do, everyone else in the treatment room moved in unison, as if they were used to this happening.
“Your Highness has sweated a lot as the fever subsided. I’ll bring a change of clothes, so please rest for a moment.”
Edith, who had come running at Masain’s call, quickly laid Prince Morres down and deftly tidied the disheveled bedding. Though she lacked the finesse of a dedicated maid, her physical strength was exceptional.
“It’s about time for the evening breeze to get chilly. It would be best to close all the curtains for now.”
With a light gesture from Prince Logan on one side, the thick curtains slid shut with a soft rustle.
There had been rumors about the continent’s youngest Sword Master, but she hadn’t expected to witness the legendary feat of aura materialization in such a way.
“Your Highness! Are you alright? I’ll put a wet towel on your forehead right away!”
Among them, the most absurd was undoubtedly Sir Masain. The former head of the palace knights, now reduced to the prince’s nursemaid, was anxiously wringing a wet towel with his gloved hands, stamping his…