Victoria lay quietly on the high-backed carved bed, her face pale to the point of transparency, her eyelashes casting a thin shadow under her eyelids, and her forehead covered with tiny beads of sweat. Her breathing was steady, but carried the weakness of illness.
"Your Highness, Your Highness... Sir Arthur Hastings has come to see you."
Leisen leaned down and softly called twice in her ear. Victoria moved slightly, her eyelids slowly lifting.
Her hazy gaze was initially somewhat bewildered, but then fell on Arthur's figure. As if recognizing something, after a moment of daze, a hint of surprise and comfort flashed across her expression.
Arthur slowly leaned down before the bed, his shadow shrouded in candlelight, covering Victoria's face.
Arthur did not rush to speak. Instead, he extended a hand, gently holding Victoria's cool, slender fingers.
Her hand barely had the strength to respond, but a faint pulse still transmitted through her fingertips, subtle yet resilient.
