"What is it, Your Highness?" Mitchell asked.
Ryley's eyes sharpened at once.
"Oliver must have seen something—something involving Vincent and Mervyn's guard that forced them to attack him," he hissed.
Mitchell looked slightly taken aback, one hand rising instinctively to cover his mouth.
"What could it have been…?"
"Whatever it was," Ryley said, his tone turning colder, "it clearly unsettled Vincent enough that he'd rather keep me quiet than start another war and use Oliver against me."
"I need to hear it from Oliver myself!" Ryley said as he hurried to get out of bed, only for Mitchell to quickly catch his arm.
"Why not wait for him here instead? You're still recovering, Your Highness," Mitchell urged gently.
"No, I can't wait any longer, Mitch," Ryley hissed. "Come on—help me."
Mitchell knew there was no point arguing further.
With a quiet sigh, he supported Ryley carefully as they moved out of the ward together, Mitchell dragging the IV pole along beside him.
