Perry's POV
"Get out of my way!"
My roar shattered the quiet of the medical wing. I didn't wait for the servants to open the doors; I kicked them open with enough force to crack the wood. Phoebe was limp in my arms, her skin burning with a fever that defied logic, yet she was shivering as if she were naked in a snowstorm.
Marcela was already there, her face pale. She had been summoned the moment I found Phoebe collapsing in the garden.
" the bed," Marcela commanded, abandoning all protocol. She didn't bow. She didn't address me as King. She was a healer, and I was just a terrified man holding his world.
I laid Phoebe down on the sterile white sheets. She curled into a fetal position immediately, a low, guttural whimper escaping her throat. It was a sound that tore through my chest like a rusty blade.
"What is it?" I demanded, hovering over them. My hands were shaking. I clenched them into fists to hide the tremor. "Is it… did Justina poison her?"
