The healer's brew was ready. The dark, murky liquid sat in a porcelain bowl, its bitter scent filling the air. Lucien carefully carried it to my bedside, propping me up with a gentle hand. "Drink it while it's hot," he urged.
My eyes drifted past him, landing on Theodore standing in the doorway. His dark cloak was streaked with blood and dirt, his fingers torn and raw from the cliffs, but he stood there like he didn't feel a thing—just staring at me, silent.
"I'm not drinking it," I said, turning my face away.
Lucien froze. "Lillian? This'll flush out the snake venom…"
"I know." My voice was soft but unyielding. "But I don't want anything from him."
The room went dead quiet.
Theodore's fingers twitched, his throat bobbing, but he didn't say a word.
Lucien sighed, setting the bowl do
