Blisters are definitely easier to heal than a broken mind. A pity, isn't it? It takes only a few dozen minutes for the healer to wrap up my hands and legs and give me a mild pain killer before walking away and leaving me to myself, and my overly dramatic maid.
She huffs and she puffs as she walks around the room, fixing this, and getting ready that while muttering worries under her breath.
Half asleep I watch her with a bit of resent. I wish I was as carefree as she was. I wish I did not have to bother with all the things that were coming my way now. No coronation, no mates, no politics and useless history junk that were nothing but cluttering my mind.
"Miss-" she speaks and I open my eyes to look at her. "Are you feeling any better?" she asks as she now stops in front of me and watches
