“My King! My King! Are you alright?”
“Keep quiet, Sylvia.”
He had the nerve, even when he seemed to be ill.
“But, you don’t seem to be well.” She replied cautiously.
“Help me to my bed.”
Sylvia did her best to balance him; he was heavy and she was heaving. She wondered at this rate when they would be able to get to his bed.
“How weak are you?”
She gritted her teeth. For someone who needed her help, he sure did have the audacity to complain. He needed to call his servants to come and help him.
“I’m trying my best.”
They got to the bed, and they both fell. She landed on top of him,
“Sylvia.”
“Yes?”
“Get off me, you are crushing me.”
Sylvia got off him. How ungrateful he was,
“You know what.”
Before she could finish her sentence, she was shocked to find blood on her hands.
“Ho
