Florence POV:
I fought back the wave of nausea, my eyes narrowing as I studied the man. He was sitting, yet the aura of power rolling off him was more intense than anyone I had ever met, Prince Alaric included.
A humorless laugh escaped my lips. "Purchased? That's interesting. I wasn't aware the Sharpe family was selling off ancestral property."
The man's blue eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were assessing a new piece on a chessboard. "You have a connection to the Sharpe family?"
I ignored his question. "And who are you? Soaking in someone else's spring in the middle of the night. You look like a pervert."
A cold, dangerous smile touched his lips. "My name is Gideon Carlisle. As for being a pervert... you haven't taken your clothes off yet, miss."
Carlisle. The royal family name. I remembered now. He was Alaric's uncle, the "Iron Prince," who had supposedly been crippled by a silver weapon on the battlefield three years ago, losing the use of his legs.
His sharp gaze raked over me again. "I've heard rumors of a mysterious 'Phantom Healer' in this area, whose skills are divine. Your appearance here, in the dead of night, is quite a coincidence. What is your relationship with her?"
He was testing me. It was clear now. He'd bought this land to find that healer for his legs.
I decided to play along, a mysterious smile gracing my lips. "Guess."
I circled the edge of the spring, my eyes fixed on his legs submerged in the water. Then, I spoke, my voice low and deliberate. "You're wasting your time. This isn't a simple injury. It's a compound poison—silver dust mixed with the neurotoxin of a black widow spider. It's been corroding your nerves for three years. This spring can only offer temporary relief, not a cure."
The calm mask on Gideon's face finally cracked. The appraisal in his eyes morphed into shock, then into a flash of pure, unadulterated killing intent.
This was his deepest secret. Only a handful of people in the royal court knew the exact nature of the poison. And this scarred, unknown woman had seen it with a single glance.
His voice dropped, becoming a low, menacing growl. "Who are you?"
I ignored him. The poison in my veins was reaching its peak. I had to get in the water.
I walked directly toward the spring and began to unlace the remnants of my dress.
"Stop!" Gideon's voice was a whip crack. "Who gave you permission to enter?"
I didn't even turn around. "A cripple who can't even stand is trying to give me orders?" I scoffed.
The words had barely left my mouth when a powerful gust of wind exploded behind me.
Gideon launched himself from the stone steps, his hand shooting toward my neck like a viper. His legs weren't completely useless at all!
But I was ready. I dropped into a low crouch, his fingers grazing the air where my throat had been.
We exchanged a flurry of blows at the water's edge. His upper body strength and speed were astonishing, even with his impaired legs.
I used my agility to weave around him, my mind racing. The power of the Lycan bloodline was truly formidable. This world's lore spoke of it as a special, high-tier lineage, and I was seeing its power firsthand.
After a few moves, he cornered me against the spring. There was nowhere left to run.
Just then, the poison inside me detonated. My vision went black, and my body went limp.
Gideon seized the opportunity, his hand clamping around my arm, pulling me against him. His other hand closed around my throat.
The lack of air forced my eyes open. I was staring into his icy blue depths.
He loomed over me, his voice a chilling whisper from the grave. "Now, tell me your connection to the Phantom Healer. Or I won't hesitate to snap your neck."
I looked at him, and against all odds, I smiled. "Kill me," I rasped, "and you'll never walk again."
His fingers tightened for a terrifying second, the pressure building, but he didn't follow through.
I used that moment of hesitation. I threw my body backward, plunging into the hot spring. The water enveloped me like a soothing blanket.
I sank beneath the surface, focusing all my energy on expelling the poison, ignoring the man on the bank whose face was a storm of conflicting emotions.
Gideon stood there, watching me, his eyes filled with suspicion, calculation, and a flicker of another emotion I couldn't quite place.
