-Octavia-
I watched in shock as the king crumpled to his knees, groaning in agony. Unsure of what to do, I took a step back. He was breathing rapidly and clutching his chest, the fabric of his dark grey shirt clung to him.
He was drenched in sweat, his hair disheveled, and his eyes were clouded. His face was contorted in a grimace of pain, a clear sign of how severe his suffering was.
“Are you dying?” I asked, trying to mask the hope in my voice.
The question seemed to shift his expression from pain to a faint smile. He laughed weakly before looking up at me.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” he mocked, but his smile quickly faded as another wave of pain hit him.
“So, you’re not dying?”
He shook his head, clearly unable to speak further. He remained on the floor, panting heavil
