Lucian wasn't wrong about Lady Eleanor's look on the bed. Gone was the lady who looked bright, strict, and every bit like the woman who had taken care of Dimitri when his mother had left.
Now, she was a shadow of her former self, her skin pale and drawn tight over her bones. Dark circles surrounded her pale green eyes, and her once-vibrant hair lay limp against the pillow. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll that could break with the slightest touch. She didn't move as much from the position she was in when I stepped in.
"Sit," she commanded, her voice still carrying that strict tone despite her weakened state. I curtsied in respect before I complied, taking a seat beside her bed. The infirmary room smelled of sickness. The walls were white and clean and the light dimmed. I wasn
