Court Of Shadows and Lies

34. A Fragile Hope

Serene spun around, his heart stopping at the sound of Cessalie’s weak voice. She was curled up on the bed, her face twisted in pain, hands clutching her belly.

Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, his arms gently lifting her. "Cessalie... What’s wrong? What hurts?" His voice, usually so cold, was filled with worry.

Her eyes fluttered open, barely a sliver of their usual sharpness, and her words came out in broken gasps. "It... hurts... my... body... it hurts..."

Panic set in as he saw her skin pale and her body tremble. Without another thought, he scooped her up into his arms, her weight feeling fragile against him. He bolted out of the room, not knowing where to go, his mind racing.

Where do I take her?

His feet carried him through the halls, turning at each corridor, his ears straining to hear any voices. Every second felt like an eternity as he desperately searched for someone who could help her. His pulse pounded in his ears, but he couldn’t stop, not when Cessalie’s life was in danger.

Finally, he came to a stop in front of a door, hearing faint voices from the other side. He banged on it, his knuckles raw as he pounded again and again. "Open the door! Open it, now!" he shouted, the urgency clear in his voice.

The door swung open to reveal Lady Anwen, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she took in the scene. "Who are you? What is—" Her words froze as she noticed Cessalie in his arms, her body limp, drenched in sweat, and her face growing paler by the second.

Lady Anwen’s expression shifted instantly, her eyes wide with alarm. "What are you doing to her?" she demanded, stepping closer.

Serene’s usual coldness cracked, his voice breaking as he pleaded, "She’s hurt... please, help her..." He cradled Cessalie closer, his gaze filled with desperation.

Lady Anwen’s voice rang out with urgency. "Your Grace! Cessalie!" She turned and rushed inside her room.

Cyrion, who had been standing by the window in the room, immediately straightened. His eyes widened, but his face remained impassive as he saw Cessalie in Serene's arms, her body limp, face pale, and soaked in sweat.

"What happened!?" His voice held an edge of authority, but the brief flicker of surprise in his eyes betrayed his shock.

Serene’s response came in broken, strained words. "She... she... needs... help..."

Cyrion’s gaze hardened as he nodded sharply, his jaw clenched, betraying nothing. "Anwen!" he commanded, his tone a controlled rush. "Call the doctor!"

Lady Anwen hurried from the room without hesitation.

Turning back to Serene, Cyrion’s expression remained unreadable, his movements precise as he gave a curt command. "Lay her down on the bed."

Serene obeyed without a word, carefully placing Cessalie onto the bed as if she were made of glass. Cyrion’s gaze remained steady, though his eyes flickered down to his daughter, narrowing ever so slightly.

"Stay with her," he ordered flatly. "The doctor will be here shortly."

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The room felt thick and heavy, like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something terrible to happen. I could hear Cessalie’s breathing—it wasn’t right. Each breath was soft, almost like a whisper, and it sounded weaker each time. She was burning up, yet shaking like she was freezing. My hands held her close, even though my heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Her skin was sticky with sweat, and I was afraid to move too much, thinking she might break like something delicate.