The color drained from Seraphine's face, leaving her skin pale as moonlight on snow. Her fingers dug into the thin hospital sheet, knuckles white with desperation. "Don't inject me with anesthesia." Her voice, though weak, carried the steel of command. "Just stop the bleeding and do the scan."
The medical team exchanged uneasy glances but obeyed. Needles glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights. Monitors beeped in steady, relentless rhythm. The antiseptic smell burned her nostrils, and beneath it, the faint, coppery tang of blood, her blood.
Two hours crawled by like a wounded animal. Finally, the bleeding slowed to a trickle, then stopped. The pain receded to a dull, throbbing ache, but Seraphine's relief was short-lived.
"Discharge me." She pushed herself upright, ignoring the protests of her body. "And Voren shouldn't hear about this."
Doctor Finn's mouth fell open. "Queen—"
