Chapter 4 The Hidden Healer

The Alpha's estate looked different in the morning light. It was brighter, but not safer. The sun had replaced all the torches, but Aria still felt the same weight on her chest. She stood at the door for a while, her body still pale from the poison's effects, but her mind was sharper than it had ever been. Every sound in the hallway, from the rustling of skirts to the scraping of boots to the hurried whispers, was sharper and clearer, pulling her toward truths hidden in these walls.

The poison didn't kill her, but it did change her.

But the family still saw her as they always had: the Alpha's weak daughter, who was pitied, sheltered, and too weak for the weight of the world. As the servants passed by, she caught their worried, almost pitying looks, as if she might faint right there. Let them think it's true. Let them think less of her. It was both her shield and her weapon.

Two maids walked by quickly, their quiet voices reaching her ears.

"Captain Rowan was hurt," one person said in a low voice, their eyes wide. "The cut... It's not good. The healer says it won't heal. "Poison on the knife."

She couldn't breathe. Rowan, her father's most loyal guard, was strong and steady and wasn't supposed to fall so soon. In the book she remembered, his absence had made the estate's defenses weaker, which enemies had taken advantage of. If he died now, the timeline she thought she understood would start to fall apart faster than she could get ready.

Aria leaned against the doorframe and made fists with her hands. She could stay hidden and be the sickly daughter. But the poison in her veins had taught her a lesson she would never forget: if you hesitate, you die.

She had already made her choice.

---

There were a lot of herbs, vials, and the strong smell of iron in the healer's room. Rowan was lying on a narrow bed with his broad chest rising and falling slowly. A deep cut on his side was bleeding slowly, dark blood. The veins around the wound were already dark and curled up like black vines under his skin. Toxic.

The healer stood next to him, and even though he tried to look calm, his hands shook. "The cut won't close..." He said in a low, defeated voice, "the venom spreads too quickly." "We need stronger drugs; none of these are strong enough."

Aria came in, and even though she was quiet, she was in charge. "Show me."

The old healer turned around, surprised. "Princess!" "You shouldn't be here..."

"Show me." This time her voice was sharper, and there was no way to say no.

He thought about it for a moment, his brow furrowing as if he were weighing the risk. But something in her eyes, steady and determined, made him stop protesting. He stepped aside without saying a word.

Aria walked up to the bed, her senses sharp and her instincts on high alert. Seeing the poisoned wound made her furious, not just at whoever did this, but also at the fact that her family still believed in her. She would show them, if not them, then herself, that she was no longer anyone's pawn.

She looked over the messy table of herbs: marigold for cleaning, willow bark for pain, and honey for infection. Not perfect, but it works. She crushed and mixed them into a thick paste with quick, steady hands, remembering the formulas she had learned by heart from the old compendium.

Rowan moaned and weakly turned his head toward her. His forehead was sweaty, and his breathing was uneven. "P...Princess?" His voice broke with disbelief.

"Save your strength," Aria said in a calm, almost soothing voice. "I'll handle this."

She skillfully packed the herbal mixture into the wound, ignoring the strong smell and the way the poison sizzled against her mix. Rowan flinched and his body tensed up because of the burn, but she kept going, her focus unbroken.

“Breathe,” she said firmly. "Pain means it's working."

The healer stood still, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. He watched as the angry black veins slowly, painfully, but surely began to go away. Rowan's breathing slowed down, and his pulse got stronger under her fingers.

Minutes felt like hours. Aria finally sat back, her hands stained with herbs and blood, and her heart racing in her chest. The poison had been slowed down and pushed back. Rowan would stay alive.

The healer took a shaky breath. "Not possible..."

Aria's eyes turned to him, cold and sharp. "Not impossible." "You just didn't look hard enough."

He looked ashamed, but she turned away before it could change her mind. It wasn't about his pride; it was about staying alive.

Rowan's eyes opened again, this time more clearly. His usually stern face softened with gratitude. "You saved me."

Aria gave him the smallest smile, being careful and cautious. "Take a break." That's all the thanks I need.

But inside, she felt a strong rush of excitement. She had used her knowledge as a weapon for the first time since waking up in this weak body, and she had won.

---

Her steps were lighter when she slipped back into the halls, and her heart raced not with fear but with something more dangerous: excitement. She had stepped in without fully showing herself. She had changed the course of events to work in her favor. The poison that was meant for Rowan would not kill him today.

But she also knew that there were eyes everywhere. Someone had tried to make her weaker, and someone had marked Rowan. People would notice her win tonight right away.

By evening, her parents came to see her, their faces showing the fragile relief of people who are desperate for good news.

Her mother whispered, "Did you hear?" with a smile that was a little nervous. "Captain Rowan lived." The healer found a way to fight the poison.

Aria schooled her features, hiding the flicker of pride behind a calm face. "That's good news."

Her father reached for her hand, which was warm and heavy. His voice was steady but soft. "The family will celebrate soon. To celebrate Rowan's recovery and our strength against the rogues, we'll have a feast. You will go, Aria. It will make you feel better.

Her heart rate sped up. The feast. She remembered it well from the story: the night when whispers of betrayal danced under chandeliers, new alliances formed in the dark, and she met the Lycan King for the first time. Kael.

She bent her head down slowly. "Yes, Father." "I'll be there."

---

Later, when she was alone again, Aria stood by her window and looked at her pale reflection in the silver light of the moon. To the outside world, she still looked weak and fragile, like the weak daughter who was holding on to life. But behind that mask, the fire burned hotter than ever.

Her wolf moved restlessly under her skin, no longer subdued but in sync with her heartbeat, as if it knew she was determined. They wouldn't just put up with it; they would strike when the time was right.

She remembered the crushed wolfsbane by her bed, the Gamma's son's mocking words, and the poison in Rowan's wound. Every shadow in these halls seemed to be hiding enemies nearby. But Aria wasn't scared.

Let them believe she has no power. Let them think she was still the weak girl who was supposed to fade away quietly.

They didn't know that the Alpha's daughter was already changing the story.

And when the party came, she wouldn't be