Chapter 328 - Prove him innocent

Chapter 328: Chapter 328 - Prove him innocent

Dican didn’t return to his chambers after leaving the detention wing.

Nansich’s words stayed with him as he walked through the palace.

Prove I didn’t do this. And find whoever actually poisoned you.

That was exactly what Dican intended to do. The container found beneath Nansich’s bed matched the substance in his blood, but that only proved the poison had been placed in his room. It didn’t prove Nansich had ever administered it. More importantly, Nansich had only been on Gia for a few days, while Dican’s missing memories stretched back years.

He needed a timeline.

Dican returned to the royal healing wing and found the head healer reviewing reports. The man looked surprised to see him again but immediately stood.

"I need my medical records."

"From your recent treatment?"

"No. Everything from the last five years."

The healer paused for just a fraction too long.

Dican noticed. "Is there a problem?"

"No, Your Highness. I’ll retrieve them."

The royal medical archive opened above the examination table. Dican moved beside him, expecting years of examinations to appear. Every member of the royal family underwent a full physical assessment annually. It had been mandatory since childhood, particularly for those who had participated in military campaigns or traveled beyond Gia.

His most recent examination appeared immediately.

Then nothing.

The healer searched again.

Dican frowned. "Where are the others?"

"There are records, Your Highness. Just not examination results."

The display changed.

There were entries under Dican’s name throughout the past five years, but almost every one contained the same thing.

Annual examination declined.

The next year was no better.

Royal medical examination declined by household.

Then another.

Blood analysis refused.

Another.

Full physical assessment cancelled.

Dican slowly straightened.

"What is this?"

"Those were your scheduled annual examinations."

"I know what they are. Why was I never examined?"

The healer’s expression became uncomfortable. "Your household declined the appointments."

"My household?"

The man hesitated.

Dican felt the first cold thread of dread move through his stomach.

"Who declined them?"

"Prince Consort Bian."

Dican stared at him.

"Every year?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

For several seconds Dican simply looked at the records. Five years of appointments had been cancelled one after another, and Bian’s name sat behind almost every refusal.

"Why?"

"Prince Consort Bian informed us that examinations caused you considerable distress. He said you particularly disliked having blood drawn."

Dican actually gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

"Blood?"

The healer glanced at him uncertainly.

Dican looked down at his own hands. He had spent years drawing with his golden blood. Cutting himself for his art had never frightened him. Sometimes he’d gone too far and made himself dizzy from the blood loss before anyone managed to stop him.

Yet apparently a tiny medical sample had terrified him enough to avoid healers for five years.

"You believed that?"

"He was your mate, Your Highness. And..." The healer hesitated. "You supported his decision."

Dican’s amusement vanished.

"I did?"

The healer brought up one of the old authorizations.

Dican’s royal seal appeared clearly beneath it.

No further examinations without the consent of my mate.

Dican stared at the order.

It was unquestionably his authorization.

He didn’t remember giving it.

The healer continued carefully. "There were occasions when medical staff contacted you directly because the examinations were mandatory. You became extremely angry. Eventually you personally ordered us not to approach you regarding medical matters unless Prince Consort Bian approved it first."

Dican felt sick.

The ancient record came back to him with horrible clarity. The poisoned royal had protected the person controlling him, rejected people who interfered and obeyed the administrator even when those actions went against his previous behavior.

Dican had done exactly the same thing.

He had given Bian control over who could examine him.

"Was I never tested at all during those five years?"

The healer searched again. "There was one examination approximately three years ago. You were injured during training and briefly lost consciousness. The attending healer examined you before Prince Consort Bian arrived."

Dican’s pulse immediately quickened.

"Show me."

The report appeared.

Most of it was ordinary: a minor wound, temporary unconsciousness and some blood loss. Dican skimmed through until a highlighted observation caught his attention.

Abnormal ocular discoloration observed. Purple tint present around iris during periods of confusion. Further examination and blood analysis recommended.

Dican stopped breathing for a moment.

Three years ago.

Long before Nansich arrived on Gia.

Grandpa Rue hadn’t imagined anything. His eyes really had turned purple, and a healer had documented it years ago.

"Was the blood analysis done?"

The healer scrolled farther.

Follow-up cancelled.

Dican already knew what he was going to hear.

"Bian?"

"Yes."

His fingers slowly curled against the edge of the examination table.

"What reason did he give?"

"He informed us that you’d recovered and no longer required treatment."

"And everyone simply accepted that?"

"The attending healer didn’t."

Dican looked at him sharply.

"She believed the discoloration required investigation and requested another examination. Prince Consort Bian refused on your behalf, so she approached you directly."

Something about that made Dican’s chest tighten.

"What did I do?"

The healer was visibly reluctant to answer now.

"You became extremely angry. According to her report, you accused her of upsetting your mate and threatened to have her removed from royal service if she attempted to examine you again."

Dican’s grip on the table tightened.

He couldn’t remember any of it.

That was the worst part.

He could picture the scene only because he’d learned enough about those missing years to understand how he must have behaved. A healer had noticed something was wrong with him. She’d tried to investigate. Bian had stopped her, and when she persisted, Dican himself had driven her away.

The person trying to help him had probably walked away believing he was simply an unreasonable prince fiercely protecting his mate.

Meanwhile, there had been poison inside his body.

"Where is that healer now?"

"She retired last year. She still lives in the capital."

"Can you find her?"

"Of course."

"Do it."

The healer nodded.

Dican finally sat on the edge of the medical bed. His head had started aching again, and he rubbed slowly at his temple while staring at the suspended records.

The evidence against Nansich had seemed so simple at first. Poison had been found in his room, and the same poison existed in Dican’s blood.

But now the timeline destroyed that simplicity.

Nansich hadn’t been here three years ago.

Bian had.

Bian had been beside Dican through all five missing years. He had rejected every mandatory examination, prevented healers from taking blood and somehow convinced Dican to give him complete authority over his medical care. When one healer actually noticed Dican’s purple eyes, Bian had immediately cancelled the follow-up.

Dican’s eyes began to burn.

He remembered Bian running into his arms earlier, beautifully dressed in gold and telling him how much he’d missed him. He remembered forcing himself to hug him back while wondering whether the person in his arms had poisoned him.

Then he remembered that little container slipping from Bian’s clothes.

The pieces were no longer merely uncomfortable.

They were becoming impossible to ignore.

"Fuck..."

The word came out weakly.

Dican lowered his head into his hands.

He wanted to be angry, but beneath the anger was something much heavier. Five years of his life had become a fog, and now he was discovering that there had been opportunities to uncover the truth. Someone had noticed his eyes. Someone had wanted his blood tested. Someone had tried to help him.

And Dican himself had stopped them.

Not because he’d consciously chosen to protect Bian, but because whatever had been inside his body had made Bian more important than his own judgment.

He didn’t even know how many decisions from those years truly belonged to him anymore.

The healer quietly gave him a few moments before Dican finally lifted his head.

His eyes were red, but his voice had steadied.

"Find the retired healer, but don’t contact her through the palace system."

The man looked at him.

"Send someone you personally trust. I don’t want anyone outside this room knowing I’m investigating those records."

Understanding appeared in the healer’s face.

"I’ll handle it myself."

"Thank you."