Blood painted his fingers crimson. It dripped from his nose unchecked, mixing with the streak on his jaw and the cuff of his shirt. Alpha Kaelion staggered into the healer’s quarters, his breathing ragged, his sharp silver eyes dimmer than usual.
Estaris, the old healer who had served three generations of royals, turned at the scent of blood and doom. His eyes narrowed the moment he saw the Alpha King sway slightly, coughing violently into his fist—more blood.
“Not again,” Estaris muttered, rushing toward him with surprising speed. “You look like death is already on your shoulders.”
Kaelion leaned heavily on the table, barely finding the strength to brace himself. “It’s worse.”
Estaris reached for the flask of clear tonic and pressed it into Kaelion’s hand. “Drink. Now.”
Kaelion took
