It had been a few days since the physician brought by King Rollo of Aerthwyn worked on the Queen. By his knowledge and skill, the poison had been drawn out little by little. She was still weak, and unable to rise from her bed or even speak clearly, but her life was no longer in danger. The worst had passed.
One fateful evening, King Tharyn sat in her chambers and watched over the Queen on her bed. The chamber was very quiet, and for once there were no guards, no healers, no attendants, only the King and his wife.
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her fragile form. His thoughts weighed heavily on him, and after a while, he reached out and held her hand gently.
