Ashen stood outside the king's chambers, blood still drying on his thigh from the self-inflicted wound. The corridor smelled of healing herbs and old stone. Lord Drex emerged from the room, face pale and streaked with sweat. Ashen grabbed his arm before the healer could speak.
"How is the king?" he asked again, voice low and urgent, the words scraping against the raw fear clawing at his insides.
Lord Drex opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head slowly. Several times he had tried everything in his power to stabilize the wound, but the poison on the blade had spread too deep.
The king lingered only because of stubborn royal blood and sheer will.
"My lord… I have done all I can. The rest is in the hands of fate."
Ashen released the healer and raked both hands roughly through his hair. His wife is gone, and his father lay dying. The realm had been breached.
