"My head...."
The room was still dim, washed in the cool blue of early dawn. Only the faintest sliver of light slipped through the gap between the curtains. He was alone in the oversized bed, as he always was. Zarius had long preferred waking before everyone else. It gave him a little silence before reports, petitions, and the endless work of governing the North claimed his attention.
But the moment Zarius tried to lift his head off the pillow, a sharp, violent throb flared directly behind his temples.
He froze, his breath catching in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut. The pain was sudden and incredibly intense, like a dull iron nail being slowly driven straight through his forehead. He sat up slowly, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
Am I actually sick? the thought crossed his mind, but he dismissed it almost instantly.
