Twice Was She Forsaken

The fire still hissed in the brazier, but its heat didn't touch her.

In its glow, Theron's face was carved in fury.

For a moment, she thought she imagined it.

Then his voice came—sharp as frost.

"Keep pretending. But hear this—no matter what game you play, the only one I love is Marzella."

It hit like a blow to the chest.

She couldn't breathe.

Just then, a guard burst through the tent flap.

A village nearby had been raided by Wildfolk. Marzella had led a patrol—now trapped, calling for reinforcements.

Theron's face changed in an instant.

"Grab the medical kit. You're coming."

He shot her a glance before storming out, like he feared Marzella might vanish if he took a breath too long.

The fire roared behind her.

But Vionna stood there, colder than the snow outside.

In the past, Theron had never let her near the front.

Even after battle, he kept her away from the wreckage.

Part status. Part protection. He used to care enough to shield her.

Now, for the first time, he was dragging her into a war zone.

Because Marzella might be hurt.

Vionna swallowed the ache and packed her kit.

Whatever had changed, one thing hadn't—she was still the camp physician.

Orders were orders.

She would see it through.

***

Theron rode ahead toward the village. Vionna followed, flanked by his guards.

By the time they arrived, the Wildfolk were gone. Soldiers were clearing the wreckage. Villagers wept quietly as they worked.

Theron was nowhere in sight.

Vionna didn't wait. She knelt beside the injured, hands steady as she cleaned and wrapped fresh wounds.

She hadn't even tied off a bandage when a soldier rushed up.

"Commander Morwynne's been cut. Lord Theron's beside himself—he wants you now!"

She wanted to refuse. Wanted to send someone else.

But the guard didn't budge.

So she followed.

Inside the warm house, she found Marzella curled in Theron's arms.

Only when Vionna stepped in did Marzella lift her hand—pale, delicate, bleeding.

Barely.

A shallow scratch skimmed her wrist. No blood, barely skin-deep.

Vionna frowned. This was what they dragged her from the wounded for?

Outside, men with shattered limbs still waited.

"I told him it was nothing," Marzella said sweetly. "Theron insisted you come."

When Vionna didn't move, Theron snapped, "Are you deaf?"

She looked up, lips pressed tight, then knelt and applied the salve.

"Ah—" Marzella flinched, breath catching.

"Does it hurt?" Theron leaned in, glare sharp. "Be gentle."

The warning in his eyes was clear.

He thought she was being cruel on purpose.

She didn't argue.

What would be the point?

"Theron, must you be so harsh with Miss Vale?" Marzella pouted. "It's barely a scratch. You didn't have to fuss so much."

"You're my future bride. I won't allow even a scratch on you."

They spoke like she wasn't there. Flirting openly. Shameless.

The wound was nothing—a flick of powder and it was done.

Vionna left the moment she could. Another breath in that room and she might've choked.

But Marzella wasn't finished.

Outside, Vionna bent to gather her kit—but as she turned to go, Marzella blocked her path.

"Princess Vionna," she said smoothly. "Or did I misremember?"

Vionna's brow furrowed.

Only a few of Theron's guards knew who she really was. Marzella had grown up in Stormrest—how did she find out?

Before she could speak, Marzella let out a quiet, scornful laugh.

"So this is the princess of Aurenza. Playing physician in a camp full of men. Don't you feel ashamed?"

Each word landed like a slap.

Vionna's eyes narrowed. "Aren't you in this camp too? We're both here for Aurenza's soldiers. Why say such things?"

Marzella smiled. "You and I are not the same."

Vionna didn't reply.

That tone said it all—'I'm deputy commander. You're just a medic.'

No point arguing.

She moved to leave—then froze as Marzella dropped to her knees, tears springing to her eyes.

"Your Highness, I know I shouldn't love Lord Theron! Punish me if you must, but please... spare my family!"

Vionna froze.

Behind her, a voice cut through the air.

"Marzella!"

Theron stormed past, hands shaking as he caught Marzella in his arms. Then he turned—eyes blazing.

His hand struck before reason could catch up.

Smack—

Vionna's head whipped sideways. A ringing flood filled her ears.

Silence crashed down—then his voice, hard as steel.

"So this is what you've been so quiet lately? Pulling rank behind my back?"