For ten long days, Joana kept her silence, saying little but watching everything. She maintained the usual rhythms of her daily life—attending to Jaehaerys, visiting the herb garden, walking the palace corridors with measured grace—but beneath the surface, her thoughts stayed fixed on one thing.
The Gracious Mother.
Since that day, when Joana had witnessed her return from the Grand Healer's house with a glow that no "treatment" could fake, Joana hadn't been able to let go of her suspicion. Something inside her knew the truth, even if she couldn't yet prove it. And that was the problem—there was no proof. Just a look. A walk. A smile too pleased, too sated.
And so, she began to watch.
It wasn't easy. The Gracious Mother was sharp—always surrounded by attendants, always moving with purpose. But Joana had grown up in a place where women learned to read each other's silences more than their words. She knew how to wait. How to observe.
For ten days she quietly tracked her movements. Where she walked, who she spoke to, which corridors she lingered in. She asked no questions but listened carefully to the idle chatter of servants and maids, stringing together small pieces of the puzzle. Every now and then, she caught a clue. The Gracious Mother asks to be left alone for a few hours. A brief absence in the afternoon that no one quite accounted for. A scent on her that wasn't perfume but... something warmer. Something bodily.
Then, on the eleventh day, just after the midday meal, Joana saw her chance.
The Gracious Mother left the east side of the palace on foot. No guards. No attendants. Dressed simply, with a shawl over her head. Anyone else might not have noticed—but Joana had been waiting for this.
Without wasting a moment, she handed Jaehaerys to Marra with a quick excuse about needing fresh air, slipped into her quarters, and pulled out the clothes she had hidden days ago.
A long tunic, dark and loose. A boy's linen trousers, worn thin at the knees. A soft leather cap to cover her hair. It wasn't perfect, but in the right light, from a distance, no one would look twice.
She made her way out of a lesser-known servant's exit that led to the outer garden wall and looped around toward the road. Keeping her distance, she followed the Gracious Mother at a careful pace.
The palace faded behind them. The stone path curved past the olive groves, then down toward a cluster of modest houses near the base of the hill. Just past the grove, nestled between a few tall cypress trees, stood the Grand Healer's home. Joana had seen it once or twice in passing, but never thought to look at it closely—until now.
The Gracious Mother approached the house and, without looking around, slipped through the front door like it was something she had done many times before.
Joana waited behind the trees, crouched low, her heart thudding against her ribs.
There was no way in through the front. Not without being seen.
She scanned the area, eyes darting along the garden wall. Then she noticed something—a narrow alley wedged between the back of the Healer's house and the old boundary wall that marked the edge of the palace grounds. It was hidden behind a thicket of overgrown vines and a broken clay fence.
Quiet as a shadow, Joana crept toward it.
The alley was cool and narrow, the walls rising high on either side. Old leaves crunched underfoot. It smelled faintly of damp stone and rosemary. She moved slowly, pressing herself against the wall when she came to the end.
There.
A wooden backdoor. Closed. Beside it, two small windows, set high, the shutters drawn. Joana rose on her toes and tried to peer through the slats. Nothing. Just dim light and the blurred shapes of furniture.
She was about to give up when—
Voices. She heard voices.
Muffled. A man's tone—deep, calm.
"Are you ready to receive the life liquid, Ariyana?"
Ariyana. That was her name. The name few ever used aloud anymore.
"Yes. I am," came the Gracious Mother's voice—low and composed.
"Good," the man said. "Then get into the position."
Joana's breath caught. She moved quickly along the wall and found a tiny hole in one of the window's wooden panels, no wider than a quill's stem. She brought her eyes closed.
And froze.
Inside the room, lit by a single oil lamp's flickering glow, Joana saw her.
The Gracious Mother—Ariyana—her back arched, her body bent forward, elbows resting on a cushioned bench.
On all fours, her posture was one of surrender.
Behind her stood a man, older, broad-shouldered, his face half-shadowed but unmistakable.
The Grand Healer. His hands gripped her hips with possessive firmness, his eyes glinting like a vulture's as they roamed her curves.
Joana's fingers dug into the stone sill, her heart hammering in her chest. Disbelief clawed at her mind, threatening to unravel everything she thought she knew about the gracious mother. She couldn't look away—wouldn't.
Her breath grew shallow; each inhaled sharply as the scene seared itself into her vision. Ariyana's head tipped back slightly, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, the elegant curve of her spine inviting what was to come.
This wasn't some sacred ritual, no mystical potion or whispered blessing.
No.
She was about to be fucked. Thoroughly. Willingly. By the Grand Healer.
Joana stumbled back from the wall, her foot catching on a loose stone. She steadied herself, her thoughts a chaotic whirl. Her stomach twisted with a nauseating blend of shock and curiosity. She had sensed something amiss.
But this? This was a truth too raw, too intimate to comprehend.
The gracious mother, pillar of the court, and mother to her child's father was no untouchable icon—she was a woman of flesh and desire.
What did it mean? Was it betrayal, liberation, or something Joana couldn't yet name? Her emotions churned—disgust at the audacity, fascination at Ariyana's unapologetic want, and a shameful flicker of envy she refused to acknowledge.
She should flee, pretend she'd seen nothing, preserve the fragile order of her world.
But the truth beckoned, undeniable and vivid, demanding she bear witness.
Quietly, Joana returned to the crack in the wall.
She had to see it through, to know the full extent of this secret. Although it was a self-made excuse, she wanted to see what was about to happen.