His presence was magnified by his golden royal robes, adding to his already formidable stature.
He rushed over, his brow furrowed in concern, and immediately called for his physician.
As I tried to kneel, he gently held me down, "You're hurt—no need to move."
Head bowed, I rushed out an apology, "Your Majesty, I've alarmed you. I deserve punishment."
He didn't reply directly but instead inquired, "You are the Queen's half-sister, correct?"
I nodded, and he asked further, "What were you doing so high up in that tree?"
Ashamed, I lowered my gaze even more, "Forgive me, Your Majesty, I've always been a bit wild, sunning myself up in the trees."
He chuckled softly, "You certainly don't have the Queen's poise. Next time, don't climb so high—it's dangerous."
I whispered a quiet agreement.
Just then, the physician arrived in a hurry, allowing the King to step aside.
After examining my leg through a cloth, the physician concluded it was merely sprained, not broken, and prescribed a bruise ointment before departing.
By the time my sister returned in a flurry, the King had already left.
She burst into my room, landing a fierce slap across my face.