Zalyric's bedchamber was suffocating with tension with the heavy curtains were drawn. The room was filled with air thick with the scent of blood, herbs, and cold sweat. There, Rowan lay unconscious on the massive bed behind him, unmoving.
"How is he?" Zalyric's voice cracked like a whip. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong with him? Did you check him thoroughly? It's been three whole days, three whole damn days and he still hasn't woken up!"
After saying that, his hand clenched around the hilt of his bloodied sword as he took a step toward the trembling line of physicians. "Tell me, are you incompetent fools pretending to be physicians?"
