The castle infirmary smelled of alcohol , medicine and blood.
Too much blood.
I sat beside Miya's bed, my fingers wrapped around her frail hand as if I could somehow transfer my strength into her.
The steady rise and fall of her chest was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
She was alive, barely, but alive.
"You have to make it through this, Miya."
I whispered, though I wasn't sure if she could hear me.
"I can't lose you too."
The distant sounds of battle echoed through the stone walls, each clash and howl making me flinch.
Somewhere out there, Marcus was fighting, for me, for his kingdom, for a future I wasn't sure we'd ever see.
And here I sat, useless, while others bled for my sake.
My fingers traced the bandages covering Miya's shoulder where Alaric's claws had torn into her flesh.
The wound had been deep, dangerously so.
If she didn't made it here...
"This is my fault..."
I told her sleeping form, my voice breaking.
