SOLVEIL CITADEL - THE KING'S CHAMBERS
The Master Healer pressed two fingers to the king's wrist and held them there for six seconds. His brow furrowed. Then unfurrowed. Then furrowed again, which was never a sequence that inspired confidence.
"No signs of improvement," the healer reported, pulling his hand back. "The fever remains elevated. His vitals have stabilized at this plateau, which means his body has accepted the current state as its new normal."
Commander Veyron stood at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed and his jaw in the locked position it had been occupying since a dragon and a wolf had turned his interrogation room into a goddamn sharing circle. His shift had technically ended three hours ago. His sense of duty had overruled the schedule because the Commander of the Kingsguard did not clock out while his king was horizontal.
