On the sixth day since King Calister had fallen mysteriously ill, the impossible finally happened.
His fingers twitched.
His breathing became steadier. Then, slowly, his eyes opened.
The room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. The scent of herbs lingered in the air, evidence of the countless medicines the royal physicians had forced him to drink over the past several days.
His vision was blurry at first.
As it cleared, the first thing he saw was Queen Jane.
She was asleep beside his bed, her head resting on folded arms. Her usually elegant appearance had vanished. Her once flawless hair was untidily tied back, dark circles rested beneath her eyes, and deep lines of exhaustion marked her beautiful face.
Even in her sleep, her brows were tightly furrowed as though she were trapped inside a terrible nightmare.
Calister's chest tightened.She had stayed with him. All this time.
