Roman
Mr. Davies suggested I rest, yet my body wouldn't obey. Pacing back and forth inside the private room within the palace infirmary, I prepared for my upcoming audience. King Theodore was coming to me.
That knowledge wasn't comforting.
In the nearly three months I'd been in Molave, never had King Theodore ever come to me. On every occasion, I'd gone to him. A wince and I looked down to my right hand. The x-rays revealed multiple broken bones. As with my arm, no surgery was required. I'd been given a strong dose of antibiotic to stop infection, and my gunshot wound was treated and bandaged. My hand was now supported by a fiberglass cast and immobilized. Moving my fingers was painful at best. I was promised once the swelling receded it would be more comfortable.
Nevertheless, I re
