He nods slowly, like this confirms something. "And you feel well? No pain, no unusual symptoms?"
I think about the burning. The healing. The fire. "I feel fine."
It's not exactly a lie.
He finishes drawing the blood and bandages my arm. "I'll have results in a few days. I'll come find you as soon as I know anything."
"Thank you, Dr. Stefan."
He pauses at the door, looking back at me. "For what it's worth, Princess Adelaide, I think you deserve better than this."
Then he's gone.
I sit on the bed, staring at the bandage on my arm. That was odd. All of it. But then again, everything has been odd since I woke up in this world that isn't mine, married to a man I despise, trapped in a castle that feels more like a prison than my dragon's lair ever did.
Three days pass. Three days of Benedict's nightly visits, of pretending to be the dutiful wife, of practicing my knife work in secret and planning murder in my mind.
Then, on the fourth morning, I'm walking in the garden when Dr. Stefan appears.
He's moving quickly, urgently, and his face is pale.
"Princess Adelaide," he says, slightly out of breath. "I need to speak with you. Privately."
I glance around. We're alone except for a gardener on the far side of the grounds, too far away to hear.
"What is it?"
"I haven't told anyone yet," he says quickly. "Not the prince, not anyone. But I found something in your blood. Something... unsettling."
My mouth goes dry. "What?"
He takes off his glasses and cleans them nervously. "I've run the tests five times. Consulted every medical text I have access to. And I believe—" He pauses, meets my eyes. "This is going to sound absolutely crazy, but given the circumstances, perhaps not. I... I believe you're immortal."
The word hangs in the air between us.
"Immortal," I repeat.
"Your cells don't age the way they should. They regenerate at an impossible rate. Your blood contains properties I've never seen before. If I'm right, and I'm fairly certain I am, you won't age. You won't die. Not from natural causes, anyway."
The burning in my throat intensifies. The healing. The fire. It all makes a horrible kind of sense. Not for the first time, I wish my dragon was here to talk to about these things.
"There's more," Dr. Stefan continues. "If you're immortal, if your body is fundamentally different from normal humans... you likely cannot conceive children. Not with the prince anyway. Not with anyone fully human."
The relief that floods through me is so intense I almost laugh. No children. No heirs. No being bred until my body breaks.
But then the reality sets in.
"The prince," I say slowly. "He'll—"
"He'll figure it out eventually," Dr. Stefan confirms. "When month after month passes and you don't conceive. And when he does..." He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't need to.
Benedict's words echo in my mind:If you're defective, I'll return you.
"I will not tell him," Dr. Stefan says firmly. "I don't like the prince. I don't like how he treats you or other women, quite frankly. But you need to figure out what to do with this information. Because when he realizes you can't give him an heir..."
He trails off, but I understand. Benedict won't just return me. He'll dispose of me. One way or another.
"Thank you," I manage to say. "For telling me. For not telling him."
