Page 55 of Rise of a Fallen Man

I nodded, but said nothing, going over the words of the royal witch in my head.

“Such a most unfortunate accident.” Leafar shook his head, his eyebrows raised in a tragic expression.

“You were with Father this morning,” I remembered. “How did it happen?”

He cleared his throat, darting a glance aside.

“A few gentlemen-in-waiting decided to race along a trail with obstacles that included a farm fence. His Majesty joined them.”

I scraped a hand down my face. “Oh, he should’ve known better.”

Father wasn’t the best on horseback. Riding wasn’t something he enjoyed or did often. But I could see how he might’ve gotten excited and carried away in the company of the prince’s younger entourage.

“Yes, yes. He most certainly should’ve known better,” Leafar eagerly agreed. “The king is not in his best shape. He doesn’t practice regularly, he admitted it himself. And in his age... Well, it’s no wonder his horse didn’t clear the fence. He shouldn’t have even tried. It was stupid—”

I raised a hand, stopping him. What Leafar was saying might be true, but it was absolutely not what I needed to hear when my father was fighting for his life.

The door to the bedroom opened, and one of the healing witches exited.

“Any updates?” I accosted her before she even closed the door behind her.

She shook her head. “Not at the moment, Your Highness. The surgery is just about to begin. We are optimistic about its outcome. I need to fetch my trunk with potions. I don’t trust anyone else to carry it. Some vials are so fragile.”

“How long will the surgery last?”

“It depends on the full extent of the king’s internal injuries that we will assess during the surgery, but I expect the initialprocedure would take us about two to three hours with a possible follow-up later, including the amputation.”

My breath hitched. “What amputation?”

“Oh, I thought the royal witch discussed this with you already.” She glanced around, leaning closer to my ear. “Some of the king’s injuries include those in a delicate area—”

“You mean the damage to his pelvis?”

“Yes, yes, that is exactly what I mean. His Majesty’s...” She steepled her fingers in front of her, hesitating in her choice of words, “...male organ has been compromised. The best option we see right now—”

“Is to cut it off?” I finished for her, tired of her beating around the bush. “Without an attempt at reconstructive surgery?”

She cleared her throat. “It’s a delicate area, Your Highness. Way too complex to operate effectively and impossible to preserve its functions.”

“Impossible? Or you just don’t know how to do it?”

It occurred to me that everyone in that bedroom right now was a woman, except for the patient. While men weren’t explicitly forbidden to study healing arts, the medical college required an endorsement from a witches’ coven for admission, and only women could be witches.

The healing witch hiked her chin, staring down her nose at me indignantly. “I have some of the highest qualifications in the healing arts—”

“I don’t doubt your expertise, esteemed healer.” I nodded. “It’s just not exactly in the required area, is it?”

“It is unnecessary in this case. The king’s ability to have children is no longer crucial. Her Majesty also agreed with us on the procedure.”

Mother was too distraught and worried about Father’s life. But Father deserved to have options.

“What does the king think about it?”

The witch looked at me, perplexed. “The king is in no position to give consent.”

“Exactly. He can’t consent to anything right now. And you’re planning to cut off a part of his body without even an attempt to save it.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, that ‘part’ is no longer necessary—”

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