Nina turned at the sound of Charlotte's voice.
Their eyes met.
The woman stood a few paces away, her lips curling into a slow, sinister smile that sent an icy chill racing down Nina's spine.
"He is not…'' Charlotte was still speaking when Nina turned in a flash and ran.
Her feet pounded against the marble corridor as panic swallowed every coherent thought. She shoved past startled attendants, nearly slipping on the polished floor, her chest tightening until every breath burned.
No… No, no, no… Please…
"Rodrigo!" Her voice cracked as she burst into the infirmary. "Rodrigo!"
Faces turned toward her, but none of them belonged to him. The sharp scent of blood and medicine hit her so hard it made her stomach lurch. Two men in black lay in the ward surrounded by healers, bearing varying degrees of injuries, one was bleeding from the stomach and the other on their arm. Her frantic gaze darted from one face to another.
Not him. Not him. Not—
