Chapter 8

It wasn't that Vivian was disgusted, but that she intended to feed Damian herself?

She held out her hand, her expression steady and certain. "Get up. Give me the bowl."

Harvey stood and said, "We'll step out at once, Your Highness."

Vivian looked at him, puzzled. "Why would you step out?"

He kept his face completely serious. "You're about to feed His Highness his medicine. If we're in the room, it might make you uncomfortable. Also, it wouldn't really be proper."

Vivian was more confused than before. "It's just feeding him medicine. What's improper about it?"

Harvey scratched the back of his neck, a little sheepish. "Well, aren't you going to feed it to him mouth-to-mouth?"

Vivian froze. Mouth-to-mouth?

She imagined it for a moment—holding the medicine in her mouth, leaning close to Damian's lips, and transferring the liquid over. The image hit her so suddenly that her heart lurched and heat rushed straight to her face.

She stared at Harvey. "Who told you that's how to feed medicine to an unconscious person?"

"That's how they do it in the storybooks," he answered honestly.

Vivian was dumbfounded. "Those are storybooks!"

Harvey stood at the bedside, his one remaining eye blinking slowly, radiating complete and genuine innocence. Vivian opened her mouth, closed it, and decided it wasn't worth pursuing.

She took a slow breath and brought her voice back to something patient and even, explaining, "Storybooks are just stories. Real life is different. There's no mouth-to-mouth involved. I need you to find me a thin strip of wood, no longer than an inch or so. Smooth it down so there are no splinters and wash it clean."

Harvey didn't fully understand what she had in mind, but nodded and went to do it without argument. He quickly returned with the wooden strip.

Vivian had the two servants add another pillow beneath Damian's head to prop him up a little more. Then, she slid one end of the wooden strip carefully between his lips, spooned up some of the medicine, and poured it slowly along the strip. The medicine flowed steadily down the wooden strip and into Damian's throat.

Harvey watched with open delight. "It's that simple!"

Vivian snorted. "Read fewer storybooks."

He grinned and leaned in, curious. "Your Highness, how did you know to do it this way?"

Vivian kept her focus on the spoon. "My maternal grandfather was a physician. I picked up things growing up around him. Though honestly, the wooden strip is just a makeshift solution. There are proper feeding tools designed for administering medication to unconscious patients. Those are much easier to use."

Harvey looked genuinely impressed. "I had no idea!"

The bowl was nearly empty, so Harvey eagerly took it and went to refill it. As Vivian watched him go, something odd struck her.

Damian was being treated by the royal physicians. If her grandfather had known about these feeding tools, then the royal physicians absolutely would know too. So, why had no one told the prince's household about them?

Her gaze moved to Damian's face. Even like this, unconscious and still, he was striking in a way that was hard to look away from. Suspicion quietly took root in her mind.

Damian was a man who had consistently won battles. Could he still have offended people?

Harvey came back with the last half bowl. "Your Highness."

Vivian set the thought aside and took it from him. She was still carefully working through it when Harvey suddenly asked, "After this, we'll need to change His Highness' clothes and wipe him down. Will you be staying to observe that as well?"