Octavia
I watched in shock as the king crumpled to the floor, groaning in agony. Unsure of what to do, I instinctively took another step back. He was breathing rapidly, clutching his chest. The fabric of his dark gray shirt clung to him, soaked with sweat. His hair was disheveled, his face twisted in a grimace that made it clear how severe his pain was.
“Are you dying?” I asked, trying to mask the hope in my voice.
The question seemed to shift his expression. For a brief moment, pain gave way to a faint smile. He let out a weak laugh and looked up at me.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” he mocked.
But the smile vanished as another wave of pain struck. He groaned again.
“So, you’re not dying?”
He shook his head, clearly unable to speak further. He remained on the floor, panting h
