“Draven… don’t scold her. It’s my fault. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be so upset. Maybe you should just let the healers—”
“Don’t worry about her,” Draven interrupted softly, adjusting her blanket with tender care. “She’s being unreasonable.”
Something in me shattered beyond repair.
Tears blurred my vision as my hand swung on instinct.
Crack.
My palm met his cheek with a sharp, echoing slap.
“If the healer-sanctum won’t treat my father,” I choked out, chest heaving, “then I’ll take him elsewhere.”
Draven’s expression iced over, fury flickering in his eyes. But before he could speak, Myrielle laughed—a quiet, mocking trill.
“Transfer him?” she echoed sweetly.
“You think moving a patient in his condition is easy? What if something goes wrong during carriage? Can you afford another setback?”
Her gaze drifted lazily toward me, a poisonous glimmer lighting her eyes.
“But…” she added, voice dripping honey, “I might be willing to help. If you kneel. Beg me properly. Press your forehead to the ground and apologize.”
My body stiffened.
Draven—The man who once swore to protect me—didn’t even flinch.
He simply nodded and said, calm and cold,