Transmigrated into the body of a poisoned queen

Javier's POV

"My lord, the lady will recover," the royal physician assured me, stepping back from where Catalina lay upon my bed. "She must apply this ointment, and within three days, the swelling shall subside." He closed his satchel with practiced efficiency, offering a slight bow before withdrawing.

I exhaled heavily and sat beside her. She stirred, attempting to sit up, and I helped her.

"My lord…" she began, her voice fragile, but I knew what she intended to say. I shook my head, silencing her before the words could form.

"She shall face punishment for daring to lay a hand upon you," I declared, my gaze fixed upon the bruises darkening beneath her eyes, and the glistening unshed tears.

To think that little thing had done this. I still couldn't comprehend it.

But Catalina shook her head. "No, you need not do that," she said, her voice gentle. "It seems her mind is unsettled. There is no need for punishment." She placed a hand atop mine, testing boundaries she knew well. I despised being touched. Yet, for a brief moment, I allowed it. When I could bear it no longer, I withdrew my hand and rose to my feet.

"I shall have my guards escort you back to your estate," I said, my tone final.

Her expression faltered, but she bowed gracefully. I watched in silence as she settled into her carriage, her maidservants trailing behind.

As the carriage disappeared beyond the palace gates, my Camarero Mayor, Don Rodrigo Álvarez de Toledo, cleared his throat. A deliberate gesture.

"Your Majesty," he began, his tone measured and composed, "the Lady Catalina de Villanueva's father, Don Alonso de Villanueva, Duque de Granada, will not take kindly to the Queen Consort laying a hand upon his daughter."

I inhaled deeply, letting his words settle before turning to face him.

He continued, his head bowed. ""Don Alonso de Villanueva, Duque de Granada, will certainly not take this lightly, Your Majesty. He is a man of great pride."

"Pride is a privilege afforded to those who remember their station." I said, my voice dry.

Don Rodrigo hesitated. "Still, he may seek recompense. A slight against his daughter is a slight against his house. He might demand…"

I turned to him, my gaze turned icy, my patience razor-thin. "Demand?" My voice was low, dangerous. "Don Alonso will do no such thing."

My Camarero Mayor lowered his head. "Of course, Your Majesty. I only meant that he will seek recompense in some form."

I scoffed. "Recompense?" I took a slow step forward, making the older man shift uncomfortably. "Let me make one thing clear, Don Alonso owes his lands, his title, his very breath to my goodwill. He will kneel, as he always has."

Silence stretched between us.

Then I turned away, dismissing the conversation as it no longer mattered. "If he wishes to grovel before me, let him come. But he will not demand. He would not dare."

With that, the matter was settled.

I made my way into the palace, my steps instinctively carrying me toward the Cuartos de la Reina.

I halted in front of the doors to her private chamber, where my guards stood rigid, her personal maidservant lingering in the corner, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"What offense has she committed again?" I asked, my tone brisk.

One of the guards dared to lift his gaze to mine before quickly dropping his eyes.

"Nothing, Your Majesty."

My brow arched. Nothing? To say I was surprised would be an understatement, I never got surprised. And yet, since that little thing arrived in my kingdom, she had brought nothing but disorder. Always shouting in that foreign tongue of hers that no one understood, breaking things, challenging me with those defiant eyes.

But now, silence.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. My gaze flickered to the bed, expecting to find her glaring at me, as she always did.

But it was empty.

A flicker of irritation burned in my chest, and I turned to question the guards..

Then I saw it.

A small, curled figure pressed against the bed, motionless on the cold stone floor.

She lay there, curled in on herself, her hair fanned across her face, her breathing barely perceptible.

For the first time since she had woken up from her fainting spell, she wasn't fighting.

And I wasn't sure why that unsettled me.

I stepped forward, and she turned.

Her hair, loose and wild, spilled around her like inky silk, framing her delicate face. But my gaze locked onto something else…

The imprint of my hand.

A deep red mark bloomed across her cheek, the skin swollen from the force of my strike. Tears, silent and unrelenting, trailed down her face, falling to the cold stone floor.

A curse slipped from my lips.

Before I could think, I bent down and lifted her into my arms. She didn't resist. Instead, her trembling hands clung to my neck, another tear slipping free, trailing its way down her cheek.

And before I could stop myself, I brushed it away.

My fingers lingered, caressing the soft warmth of her skin. I had never seen her cry, not like this.

Without thinking, my thumb ghosted over the mark I had left, tracing the bruise.

She whimpered.

"No…" she whispered in her sleep, her voice barely a breath.

I held her gaze, my own unreadable.

"You have brought this upon yourself."

I dropped her onto the bed, her hand slipping from my neck and falling limply at her side.

Straightening, I stared down at her.

More tears streaked her face, her eyes swollen.

I turned to leave..

"Ich vermisse dich."

I froze.

Slowly, I turned back. Who? Because it was certainly not me.

A sharp irritation twisted in my chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome.

My jaw clenched as I leaned down, grasping her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me.

"Who?"

Her breath hitched, but she didn't answer.

She was still asleep.

My grip tightened slightly. "Who do you miss?"

Still, no response.

My fingers curled against her cheek before I realized what I was doing.

A scowl pulled at my lips as I let go.

She was dreaming of someone.