The frantic urgency in the maid's voice registered even as my thoughts remained with Seraphina. Duty called, whether I liked it or not.
"Take me to her," I ordered, following as the young woman hurried ahead toward the servants' quarters.
I never thought I'd be entering Lilith's new accommodations with anything but contempt, yet here I was, summoned by an emergency. The hallway smelled of cleaning solutions and packed bodies—nothing like the perfumed corridors of the main house where she'd once resided as our concubine.
The maid pushed open a plain wooden door, and the scent hit me immediately—distress, pain, and something metallic that made my wolf bristle with alarm.
Lilith was curled on her narrow bed, clutching her stomach. Her face, usually carefully made up, was pale and drawn, tear tracks staining her cheeks. For a moment, I wondered if this was another of her manipulations, but the healer kneeling beside her looked genuinely concerned.
