CEDRIC’S POV
My tunic is soiled with blood but I don't even notice.
My soul is in shreds as I run to Arnold’s chambers, carrying Alana who has buried her face in my chest.
I had sent the soldier who had accompanied ahead to get Arnold from the banquet hall. The physician is already there, preparing his table when I barge into the room.
I place her on the table and draw back, while Alana keeps her eyes on me. Her eyes betray her anguish and shattered spirit.
Without thinking, I grab Arnold by the scruff of his shirt and growl at him menacingly. “You better save her! If anything happens to her or the baby, I'll have your head!”
Arnold stares up at me in horror for a few seconds unsure what to do or say. Alana's yelp of pain drags my attention back from the trenches of seething fury. I
