Chapter Text
Present – Lighthouse Hospital, Solaria, near the border with Eraklyon
The sharp click of towering stilettos rang across the polished hospital tiles as she swept onto the ward, her guard struggling to keep pace.
At the reception desk, a doctor—caught mid-step with a stack of files—looked up as though a storm had just barrelled in. Whatever he had been about to say, she seized the moment first.
“Where is she?” Her voice was tight. Controlled. Threaded with the kind of desperation that could start a war.
“Room two, just down the corridor, Your Majesty,” he replied hastily. “She’s all right—just a few bruises and a shallow cut on her forehead. Mild concussion, nothing serious.”
Farah gave a curt nod—acknowledgement enough—and strode past him, her pace quickening. She reached room two and threw open the door.
Empty.
The bed was unmade, the blanket tossed aside, monitors dark and silent. Panic surged through her chest like a wave breaking against a cliff.
“The princess is here, my queen,” a guard called from the corridor.
Farah spun, heart pounding. A few doors down, room four stood ajar. Framed in the doorway was her daughter—clad in a plain hospital gown, looking far too fragile for someone so infuriatingly reckless.
“Oh, Bloom, are you all right? I was terrified,” she exclaimed, rushing forward. Ignoring the neat bandage on Bloom’s forehead, she wrapped her in a fierce embrace.
“I’m fine, Mum, really. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry,” Bloom whispered, returning the hug, though she winced slightly.
Farah pulled back, cupping her daughter’s face. Her eyes flashed with magic for the briefest moment as she searched Bloom’s features for signs of deeper harm.
“What on earth were you doing on the road through Brighstone Forest?”
“Er… well…” Bloom faltered, caught between guilt and a desperate attempt to avoid trouble. “Mum, this is Sky.” She gestured towards the bed behind her.
Farah’s gaze shifted. A young man lay unconscious, pale and bandaged, with an IV tube in his arm. The machines beside him beeped steadily in rhythm with his breathing.
“They’ve just brought him back from surgery,” Bloom explained quickly. “The doctor said he’ll be fine. It wasn’t that serious… He’s sort of my… boyfriend,” she added, voice shrinking to a near whisper.
“Boyfriend?” The word landed like a thunderclap. “And what, precisely, were you doing with this boyfriend in the middle of a forest?”
“We were going to a fair,” Bloom admitted, squirming. “In Durham.”
“A fair? During school hours?” Farah’s tone sharpened to a razor’s edge.
“It’s not just any fair! They’ve got the most beautiful stalls and a rollercoaster with a huge drop and it ends tomorrow. Sky said I’d love it.”
“He said you’d love it,” Farah repeated slowly, coldness edging her words.
“Yeah, so we took one of the school’s cars and—”
“You stole a car from Alfea?” Farah cut in, voice rising in disbelief. The last shred of patience vanished from her face.
Bloom’s mouth opened, then closed. She stared down at her mother’s stilettos as if they were the most fascinating thing in the room.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” she mumbled.
“Oh, I dearly hope you are,” Farah snapped. “You’re a princess, Bloom! Sneaking off, stealing a car, missing classes, endangering yourself—” She broke off, hands raised in helpless fury. “If your father—”
“I know, Mum! I know.” Bloom’s voice cracked, tears gathering in her eyes.
Farah’s expression softened slightly. She exhaled, letting her hands fall to her sides. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters,” she said quietly, and once again embraced her daughter.
The moment was interrupted by approaching footsteps and hushed voices. A doctor appeared in the doorway, accompanied by a man in jeans and an elegant green jumper.
“He’ll recover quickly, I assure you, Mr Silva,” the doctor said. “The procedure went smoothly—no complications. He should regain consciousness within the hour.”
Both men paused at the sight of the women in embrace. The man in the jumper looked particularly startled, his eyes flicking to the older woman.
“Your Majesty. Princess,” he stammered, bowing stiffly.
Bloom stepped away from her mother. “You must be Sky’s father.”
Farah, meanwhile, stood frozen. Her wide eyes locked on the man in the jumper; her face had drained of colour. She said nothing.
“I’m really sorry,” Bloom said quickly, filling the silence. “It was all my idea. Please don’t be angry with Sky.” Seeing the confusion on his face, she added, “We’ll give you a moment.”
She guided her mother away and back into the room assigned to her.
The door had barely closed when Farah crossed to the window. She stared out, her expression unreadable.
Then: “Get dressed. We’re leaving. Now.”
Bloom blinked. “But, Mum—?”
“There is no but, Bloom,” Farah said, her voice like frost. “You broke the rules. You lied. You endangered yourself. You’re a princess, a future ruler, and you will act like one.”
She inhaled slowly, still facing the glass. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”
At the door, she paused—her final words delivered without turning back.
“And that boy?” she said coldly. “I don’t wish you to continue seeing him.”
She swept out, her heels striking the corridor like gavel blows.
Bloom stood frozen, her mother’s decree reverberating through her like a bell toll. The warmth from earlier—when her mother had pulled her close, relieved she was safe—was gone. In its place: silence, heavy and cold.
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them away. There was no room for crying—not now. She reached for the neatly folded clothes beside the bed, swallowing hard.
Later , she told herself. Later, there’ll be a chance to explain… or to make it right.