Daphne spent the next few days in a quiet routine, her attention on the small vial on her bedside table.
She carefully observed the reaction of the antidote she had created, documenting every subtle change as she continued her work.
Alaric had not visited her since the last time, but he had not failed to send her random flowers and gifts. Alice, ever the dutiful messenger, had informed her that the General was incredibly busy but would visit her as soon as he could.
Daphne guessed the issue on the eastern border was more serious than he had let on. She missed his presence and the quiet strength he exuded, but she had to focus on the competition. She would see him there, anyway.
The next morning, at breakfast, a panicked scream cut through the conversations. A veiled lady ran into the hall and raced toward the table. She went straight for her roommate, who sat in shock as the lady's hand struck her across the face.
