“Your Highness?”
I grit my teeth. “Aran,” I snap, without looking. “What the fuck have I told you about calling me that?”
His voice cuts through the air from the doorway. “Apologies, sir, but it’s urgent.”
I sigh, rolling off the woman beneath me without so much as a glance. “You know, I’m starting to think your use of ‘urgent’ is just an excuse to pester me when I’m busy.”
Aran steps in, the door clicking closed behind him. He tries not to look at the woman sprawled on the bed, and tries even harder not to react to the blood still sliding down my chest.
“I know you did not request this of me, but I’ve been watching Miss Sandoval in the viewing chamber. In my spare time.”
My entire body stiffens. The woman in my bed sits up like she might speak. I raise a hand without looking and growl, “Out.”
She scrambles without a word. Smart move on her behalf.
I turn back to Aran, jaw tight. “Why?”
He swallows. “I had a feeling that it would be important to do so.”
“She is of no concern to you. Or to me,” I mutter, heading toward the shower, “Not until her soul is freed from its mortal shell.”
I pause, glancing back over my shoulder, “So, what’s so godsdamned urgent?”
He shifts, and I see the stiffness in his spine, the hesitation he rarely allows. “She’s taken an overdose.”
Everything stops. Sound dies, thought dies, and rage is all that’s left. It floods my skull in an instant, hot and acidic. My teeth threaten to crack from how hard I grind my jaw.
“When?”
“I don’t know exactly. When I checked the scrying mirror, she was unconscious in her shower. Fully clothed, surrounded by pill bottles. I don’t know if she’s?—”
“She’s alive,” I snarl. “She has to be.”
I slam my fist into the obsidian wall hard enough to split the stone. Cracks splinter outward like lightning, a blade clattering from its mouth onto the floor.
“FUCK!” I bellow.
I’m gone before Aran can say another word.
The apartment isdark when I arrive. Quiet.
I move through it like a storm toward the bathroom door. I twist the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. Of course it’s fucking locked. I grit my teeth, anger coursing through my veins. She locked the fucking door to stop anyone from helping her. How poetic. I don’t waste time. One brutal kick and the door explodes inwards, splintering into shards.
I stand in the doorway, looking down at her tiny body in a heap on the floor. She’s in the corner of the shower, dressed in a hoodie that swallows her small form and pants that are also way too large for her. I approach, the cold water hitting me as I drop to my knees and grab her. Her lips are a pale blue, and her skin is clammy to the touch. I look her over, noticing her chest is barely moving.
“Fuck.” I whisper. I shake her gently, but she doesn’t stir. “Daisy,” I snarl. “What the fuck is wrong with you?—”
I shove two fingers down her throat, forcing her to gag. She lurches forward, vomiting violently onto the shower floor. Half-dissolved pills and bile spill out, mixing with the water, swirling down the drain like poison. But she still isn’t waking up, and her breathing seems to only be getting worse.
I scoop her into my arms, flicking off the water before pressing her head to my chest to stop it from lolling about.
“You stupid, stubborn, self-destructive girl.”
I teleport us back to Zeriavoss, the walls of her old guest room forming around me in a flash. Teleporting is usually rough on mortals, but considering she’s basically comatose, it shouldn’t make much difference to her. The bed is already made, and I lay her down, brushing back soaked hair from her face.
I step into the hall and roar, “GET ME THE HEALERS. NOW!”
The castle shudders beneath my voice, Aran scrambling to get the healers. I step back into the room and don’t move from her side. I sit in a chair by the bed and stare at her almost lifeless body, jittering with restrained violence as I let my heat wash over her to dry out her sodden clothes.
