JingYi’s steps faltered.
Princess?
She looked again at the woman’s blue gown—finely stitched with a gold-embroidered neckline, sleeves gleaming with the pearl buttons. The market people watched not with mere concern, but reverence.
They weren’t justanycouple.
The woman was none other than the Princess of Aethonia, and the man beside her must be her Alpha husband—dressed like a warrior, not a prince, with a curved blade at his hip. His dark hair was half-tied at the top of his head, the rest spilling wild.
Unease unfurled in JingYi’s chest. She’d grown up watching those in silks and crowns, but every time she treated someone of royal blood, it earned her scorn. Here she was, again, about to step into that risk with nothing but her skills to protect her.
“Healer,” the prince called, voice tight with urgency.
JingYi swallowed and nodded. “Coming, Your Highness.”
Pain was pain. No crown could shield the body from its own imbalances. She would treat the princess as she would any patient.
Inside, the flower shop smelled of bruised petals and cut stems. Sunlight slanted through smudged glass, casting dappled gold on the floorboards. An armchair had been hastily cleared inthe back room, where the princess now sat, pale and breathless, one hand braced on her belly.
Jingyi knelt beside her and took her wrist.
The pulse was thin and fluttering. JingYi’s brow furrowed. Vital energy and blood were both deficient. The signs were clear: dehydration, fatigue, excessive walking. Her skin was cool to the touch, heat trapped in the upper body, energy scattering instead of flowing downward.
“The baby is well,” Jingyi said, directing her words to the man hovering at the princess’s side. “But the womb is tense. The ligaments are straining from exhaustion and rising internal heat. Her channels are out of harmony.”
The man tensed. “What does that mean? Is she in danger?”
“Not as long as these conditions are managed.” Jingyi turned to the shopkeeper at the doorway. “Water for the princess, please. Cool, not cold. And something lightly salted.”
The woman vanished at once.
“Your body is overheated,” Jingyi told the princess. “The sudden pain comes from tension pulling where it shouldn’t—your muscles, your ligaments, even your digestion. But it can be soothed.”
She pressed a point just above the inner ankle, then a point along the outer thigh. “These release stagnation in the lower body and encourage your vital energy to descend.” She kept her touch light, drawing small, steady circles. “It will ease the tension in your womb.”
Jingyi moved to another pressure point along the wrist. “This calms the heart and eases anxiety. You may feel a shift. Let it come.”
Gradually, the princess’s shoulders dropped. Her brow smoothed. When she looked up at her husband, her eyes were clearer, no longer glazed with panic but wonder.
“Alarik, the pain is gone,” she whispered, as though amazed. Then, to her, “It’s like magic.”
JingYi offered a soft smile. “It is not magic,” she said, “only the wisdom of the body and knowing how to help it remember balance.”
“Thank you,” the princess said, reaching for her hand. “I didn’t know I needed help until I couldn’t stand.”
“That’s when most people notice,” JingYi replied gently. “It means your body is asking for a little kindness.”
The door creaked open. The shopkeeper returned with a cup and a small dish of preserved citrus slices.
Jingyi helped the princess upright, steadying her with one arm before offering the drink. Her lips were dry, her pulse slack. She needed more than moisture—she neededbalance. Salt, in small measure, would anchor the rising energy, calm the womb, and help the body hold what it had lost. Too much would harden the pulse and lead to dizziness. In Xûen-Sarai, she might’ve asked for salted plum water or broth steeped with rice and mineral salts. Here, the preserved lemon should do.
After the princess drank and sucked on a few citrus slices, JingYi said, “You’ll feel better soon, but rest is no longer optional, Your Highness.”
The woman studied her now, her blue eyes curious but kind. “Did you come for the festivities?”
“No,” JingYi said, rising, hiding her wince when her right hip spasmed. “I’m just passing through.”
“You have a gift for healing. And you’ve saved me. What’s your name?”