Joseph gazed quietly at the girl before him—frail in frame, but with a spirit that seemed to burn defiantly behind her eyes. She stood like a soldier expecting punishment, her apron stained red, her voice trembling from both fear and conviction.
A curious melancholy settled in Joseph's chest. He was reminded of an old quote he'd once read in the dusty corners of Maum's notes: the bitter words of Monk Lewis, a popular figure of this very era—"I detest, pity, and despise all female litterateurs. They should have a needle in their hand, not a pen. It is only the needle with which they can work freely."
Such was the prevailing sentiment of the 18th century. Even in France, a nation priding itself as the cradle of Enlightenment, women were denied even the most basic rights. No law studies, no medical training, no financial independence. A woman could not even open a bank account without a husband or father's consent. Her worth, her path, her identity were all decided by men.
Joseph, born of a later age, could hardly stomach such logic. But as he glanced around the room, the expressions on the faces of those around him made it clear that Perna's defiance had shocked them.
Captain Kesode, though loyal and brave, wore a strained smile—half awkward, half indulgent—as if Perna reminded him of a stubborn younger sister who refused to follow the rules. Some of the guards shifted uncomfortably, while a few exchanged hushed whispers and poorly disguised smirks. No one outright laughed, but their expressions betrayed it all: confusion, mild amusement, disbelief.
And Perna noticed.
She'd seen those faces countless times before.
It was always the same—men who praised liberty and reason but recoiled at the idea of a woman holding a scalpel or speaking her mind in public. Even now, having just poured her heart out to the Crown Prince, she could feel their silent judgment settling over her like a cold mist.
She glanced up at Joseph, her final hope, only to brace herself for the disappointment she assumed would come.
But then he stepped forward.
His voice was clear and warm as spring rain:"Dissection is the very foundation of medicine. I fully support your studies—keep practicing."
The words fell like thunder in Perna's ears.
She blinked in disbelief, certain she had misheard."Y-Your Highness?" she stammered.
Joseph stooped, picked up the scalpel she had dropped, and offered it to her, his smile sincere and eyes full of encouragement."Someone like you, who dares to challenge convention and chase knowledge, has every chance to become a great physician."
The blood drained from Perna's face, only to return in a rush of warmth that flushed her cheeks. "But I…" she whispered, struggling to find her words, "I'm a woman… You really believe women can become doctors?"
Joseph tilted his head, as though her question were odd."Why shouldn't they? Medicine is not a man's privilege—it is a science, a service, a calling. And if I were ever to fall gravely ill," he added with a teasing smile, "I would be honored to be saved by Dr. Perna."
He paused, then added meaningfully,"If the chance arises, I intend to advocate for laws that allow women to enter the medical profession without restriction."
Perna's legs nearly gave out beneath her. She had prepared herself to be scolded—or at best, dismissed politely. But now? Now her ideals had been affirmed by the Crown Prince himself. She felt as if her years of quiet rebellion, of secret studies and sleepless nights, had all been leading to this moment.
"I… I've never heard anyone say such things before," she murmured, her voice cracking under the weight of emotion.
For a moment, Joseph's face seemed to blur in her eyes, surrounded by a soft halo of candlelight. He looked almost otherworldly—like one of the angels painted on the ceilings of the Royal Chapel. Impossibly kind, impossibly noble.
She could no longer hold it in.
Tears welled in her pale green eyes, and without a word, she raised her hands and covered her face, trembling as silent sobs overtook her.
"Thank you… Thank you, Your Highness…" she whispered through her fingers.
Joseph gave a light chuckle and patted her shoulder awkwardly, just as a very different sound broke the moment—the distinct growl of an empty stomach.
Joseph looked down in embarrassment as his gut protested the missed supper. Perna looked up, her tears barely dry, and the corners of her lips quivered into a giggle.
"Your Highness," she said softly, "did you come here looking for food?"
Joseph scratched his cheek sheepishly. "Guilty. I skipped dinner and thought I might find something here… but it seems the chefs have vanished."
"They must've gone to fetch tomorrow's produce," Perna said quickly, offering him an excuse with a knowing smile.
Joseph, who knew all too well the art of sneaking naps during night shifts, decided not to press the matter. "It's all right," he said, "I suppose I'll survive the night."
But Perna hesitated for a moment, gathering courage, and then offered, "If… if Your Highness does not mind, I could make something for you."
Joseph raised an eyebrow. "You cook?"
"I do!" she said quickly, then faltered. "Well… a little. Mr. Valister taught me. I can try, at least."
He smiled. "Then I would be delighted."
The kitchen fire was still warm, and ingredients had already been prepared for the next day's meals. After washing her hands thoroughly and removing her blood-stained apron, Perna slipped into action. Her movements were graceful, practiced, but with a nervous energy that made her every motion purposeful.
Within twenty minutes, the aroma of red wine-baked goose liver filled the kitchen, joined by the savory sweetness of beetroot and tomato soup. She plated the dishes carefully, like an offering, and placed them on the small tea-break table the chefs used during long nights.
Captain Kesode performed his duties with solemn dignity, sampling each dish to ensure they were safe. Only when he stepped back with a slight nod did Joseph sit and prepare to eat.
"Come, join me," Joseph said, noticing Perna lingering nervously to one side.
She shook her head shyly. "Thank you, but I… I'm fine. Please, taste it first."
Joseph frowned, then wordlessly fetched another plate, divided the goose liver, and handed half to her.
"It wouldn't be right for France's future first female doctor to go hungry," he said with a wink.
Perna turned scarlet, lowering her head as she murmured, "Yes, Your Highness."
The first bite was transcendent. Rich, buttery liver with the depth of aged wine, offset by thinly shaved black truffle—simple yet exquisite. Joseph closed his eyes and let out a satisfied hum.
"If you ever tire of medicine," he said with a grin, "you could easily become the palace's head chef."
Perna glowed. "Really? I—I learned it just for fun…"
Joseph looked at her fondly. "In that case, let me offer a token of appreciation. I'll have a tailor design you a proper medical uniform—something practical and tailored to your needs. Who knows, perhaps you'll start a new tradition."
Perna's fork trembled. She swallowed hard and whispered, "Thank you, Your Highness…"
As sunlight spilled into the east-facing chamber of the Crown Prince, Perna arrived as she always did—carrying her medical case, prepared to perform her routine health check. But this time, something had changed.
Gone was the heavy powder that usually dulled her face. Her skin was clear, radiant, and gently flushed with natural color. Her lips bore no rouge, yet looked fresh as spring roses. She moved with a quiet pride, her steps lighter, her gaze more assured.
She curtsied with the grace of a lady and opened her notebook.
"Your Highness, does your throat still hurt?"
"Only a little," Joseph replied with a smile.
"Any coughing?"
"Occasionally."
"Phlegm?"
"Some, but it's light."
She scribbled diligently. Then, without thinking, she glanced up and caught the clean lines of Joseph's jaw, the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, and his warm amber eyes watching her patiently.
For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
He's… he's so handsome… she thought, her heart skipping. How did I never notice before?
Her pen faltered, her face reddened, and she quickly looked down again.
A soft smile tugged at the corners of Joseph's mouth.
He had noticed.