That night, amidst the silence of the cold stone palace, an old nightmare returned.

  The fever hit Entya like a physical blow. It wasn't a normal illness, but rather a bone-deep burn followed by sharp and stabbing pains that radiated through her small frame. She groaned, tossing and turning in bed, caught in a cycle of shivering chills and scorching heat that no amount of blankets could fix.

  Gerel, who had not left her side, immediately went to find Nashr. With anxious eyes, she explained Entya’s condition. "This happens every quarter during the full moon, Your Majesty," she whispered with a voice filled with worry. "Usually... Yul is the one who watches over her."

  The name hung in the air. Nashr’s expression hardened. In that moment, he realized just how much he did not know about the girl he had brought into his palace.

  Without hesitation, Nashr sat on the edge of the bed. In her blurred consciousness, Entya felt the mattress sink slightly. She felt a large and warm and steady hand gently move the blanket aside. It rested on her chest right over her heart, shielding her from the raging energy within.

  A soothing golden light pulsed from his palm and sank deep into her skin. It did not feel like an ordinary touch, the energy felt alive. It was as if he were calming a storm inside her, building a protective shield around the source of her pain.

  Slowly but surely, the fire in her body began to die down. The sharp pains faded and were replaced by a comfortable warmth. For the first time in her life, she did not have to fight the fever until she reached the point of total exhaustion. Someone was helping her extinguish it. She finally drifted off into a deep and peaceful sleep.

  Nashr did not move. He sat there in the dark while frozen by a sudden and gnawing sense of guilt. He had been so focused on what he wanted, specifically on her potential and her power and how she could save Talrakia. He had completely ignored the girl herself. He knew nothing of the cycles of suffering she endured. He reached out, gently brushed a damp strand of charcoal hair from her forehead.

  'How much more do I not know?'

  At dawn, when Entya woke up, there was no lingering heat and no throbbing ache. There was only a natural sense of tiredness. She remembered how the fever usually left her body weak for days, but this time was different. A faint image flashed in her mind of a warm golden light and a large hand touching her with absolute certainty. Nashr.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Her gaze swept across the dim room. He was gone, but his presence was tangible. On the table sat a stack of scrolls, a quill, and a cup of herbal tea that was still steaming. The man had watched over her all night.

  Entya swallowed hard while feeling the residual warmth of his energy in her chest. A confusing and uncomfortable realization hit her.

  'Yul stayed with me. He used to hold my hand. He was my harbor. But Nashr... Nashr calmed the storm.'

  This man could do something Yul never could. He had reached the very core of her pain and eased it. The comparison felt like a betrayal, yet she could not ignore it. For the first time, Nashr's presence did not feel like that of a kidnapper or a powerful king, but a protector.

  A complex inner turmoil began to take root in her heart.

  Entya’s fever served as a sharp reminder for Nashr. If he was going to be responsible for her life, he had to understand her past. His resolve awakened a question he had kept in the corner of his mind.

  'Who was Yul?'

  That name appeared occasionally on Entya’s lips with a longing she could not hide, and now Gerel had mentioned him too. Yul was no longer just a name. He was an unknown variable.

  Nashr summoned his head of intelligence. His order was brief. "Ghazi, find out everything about a man named Yul from the Salkha Clan. Learn his relationship with Entya and what he has been doing since she left."

  A few days later, an intelligence report lay on his desk. Yul was a nomad youth raised by Bataar, who was a high ranking Salkha warrior, after being found unconscious on the plains as a child. He had long dark hair tied in a low ponytail, sharp eyes with the color of the sky, a strong jawline, and a tall athletic build forged by life in the wild. He was an archer, a skilled hunter, an unmatched rider and a disciplined swordsman. He was the image of a natural soldier or a warrior hardened by the steppes.

  However, the most important part of the report confirmed what Nashr already suspected. Yul was the one who had stood against him and fought his men when he took Entya. Nashr remembered that gaze, specifically the raw fury and desperation that seemed to challenge fate itself.

  Nashr’s grip tightened on the report until his knuckles turned white. A sharp and primitive sting of jealousy pierced through him. That man, Yul, was not just a childhood friend. He was someone with a profound bond to Entya and someone who might still have a claim on her heart.

  He was a rival.

  Nashr raised his head. "A man with eyes like that would not simply give up," Nashr murmured with a voice that was low and dangerous.

  He knew it in his gut. Yul would not stay silent. He was coming. And Nashr had no intention of letting him take what belonged to him.

  "Tighten security," Nashr commanded with a voice as sharp as a blade. "Watch every gate, every wall, and every shadow. I want to know about every desert rat that tries to sneak in. And ensure Entya is always under the best protection."

  The shadow warrior bowed and vanished. This was no longer just about protecting a royal asset. This was about a king protecting his future queen.

  He was protecting his own.