Ashen sat beside the bed, unmoving, as though the world had forgotten him there.
One hand rested on his wife's waist, the other slowly caressing her fingers, tracing the familiar shape of her knuckles again and again.
Her skin was warm, yet her body lay frighteningly still. She did not stir. She did not breathe deeply. She did not respond to him.
Anyone could see how weak and exhausted he was. His shoulders slumped beneath the weight of sleepless nights, his eyes sunken and rimmed red from days of refusing rest. His hair had lost its usual neatness, strands falling loosely over his face, yet he did not care. None of it mattered.
All that mattered was her.
He had not left her side since the poison revealed its cruelty. He had sent messengers to every corner of the realm, summoned Lord Drex, and even reached beyond their world into other realms where forbidden healers and ancient magic resided. Princes bowed before him. Sorcerers trembled at his command. Still, she did not wake.
