Three days had passed, and Aveloria still hadn't woken up. At first, the physicians had told the king it was exhaustion. Her body needed time to adjust to her wolf form, and such a transformation could take a toll on anyone's energy. But by the morning of the third day, her color had changed. Her once warm skin now looked pale and lifeless. The glow that had surrounded her when she was found was gone.
King Alaric stood beside her bed, his hand clutching hers tightly. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. He hadn't left her side except to attend to urgent matters of the kingdom. Every time someone entered the room, his heart jumped with hope, only to be crushed again by the same answer: no change.
The room smelled of medicine and burned herbs. Incense had been placed near her bedside to aid her breathing, but nothing helped.
Mira, the head maid, wrung her hands nervously near the doorway. "Your Majesty," she said softly, "the physicians are requesting to see you."
