"Your highness," Eadric Abourne said softly, voice a soothing murmur as he reached out to gently brush a lock of sweat-dampened hair from the prince's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Eadric Abournce served the Aranothian royal family faithfull as royal apothecary. The air was heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs, mingling with the faint aroma of the prince's favorite wildflowers, carefully arranged in a vase by the bedside. Born into a world of privilege and power, yet cursed with a body too weak to fully embrace it, the prince- a boy of just 14 years of age- had long been an embarrassment to his father, the king.