BRAN
For one, he was lying on a bed like a f*****g wimp, avoiding the gaze of the woman he'd eaten out not five days ago in her room because he couldn't bear to look at her and say the words that he wanted to say next.
Secondly, he was pissed that she was seeing him like this—weak, helpless, useless, f*****g powerless. It was usually the other way round with them and the change was throwing him. He hated it.
So f*****g much.
Thirdly, he couldn't have heard a news worse than the one he'd just heard from the oracle. He'd been prepared to pay a great fortune to the healer, whoever the person was.
What he hadn't expected was for that person to be Maria of all people.
"Your Majesty," the oracle called and Bran turned to her slowly. "You have to let her heal you."
"I can't
