The sound that left Solveil's throat was two voices twisted into one, his own and something beneath it, braided together, one demanding, one commanding, both clawing for control of the same mouth.
"Your Majesty," the junior healer began. "Let me get the Master Healer. Your body has been through significant trauma and you need time to recover before—"
"WHERE. IS. SHE."
Each word was its own detonation. Landon's hand ripped the sheet off his body. His legs swung over the side of the bed and his bare feet hit the stone floor and the stone lit up beneath him in a pulse so bright the junior healer shielded his eyes.
The gold in his irises surged again. Flickering. The second tone in his voice pushed forward, louder, deeper, drowning out his own like a tide swallowing a shore.
"WHY DOES IT FEEL DIMMED?"
