When the king pushed open the doors to his quarters, he expected chaos.
Perhaps physicians hovering over Elara. Perhaps servants rushing back and forth with water and medicine.
What he did not expect was silence.
A terrible, suffocating silence. And he did not like that.
Kaelis froze just inside the doorway.
Elara sat on the sofa in the center of the room, her body slumped slightly forward, one arm resting limply over her lap.
Blood dripped steadily from a deep wound carved into her forearm.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound echoed against the stone walls like a clock counting down the final seconds of someone's life.
It was gushing, it was disturbing and yet...there was no sign of pain on her face.
Her eyes were open, but they were not looking at him. It was glazed over.
They were fixed on something else.
Something that was not there.
Across the room, the royal physician had been pinned against the wall.
