Chapter 67: Alarm
When Lucas stepped into the chamber, the atmosphere was calmer than before, no longer tense with dread or uncertainty. At the center, reclining slightly against a pile of velvet-cushioned bolsters, Prince Darius looked pale but far more stable than the last time Lucas had seen him.
His once arrogant posture was gone. His shoulders now bore a weight that seemed to sober him. His eyes, once proud and sharp with disdain, now held a different light, one dimmed by pain, perhaps, or maybe reflection.
Lira was seated on a cushioned stool beside the bed, gently adjusting the edge of Darius’s robe to make him more comfortable. The moment her eyes caught Lucas, her face lit up with that familiar brightness he had come to appreciate. She stood quickly, brushing invisible dust from her gown as she stepped towards him.
"You’re here," she said, voice light but filled with relief. "He’s better now... I think the worst is over."
Lucas smiled faintly and nodded, glancing over her shoulder to the recovering prince. "You’ve done well, Lira. Thank you for staying with him."
Lira’s cheeks colored slightly from the praise, and she gave a small bow of acknowledgement before stepping back to allow Lucas to approach Darius.
For a moment, the room was still. Darius didn’t look up immediately, but Lucas could sense he was aware of his presence. Finally, the prince lifted his gaze, and for once, it held no mockery, no pride, no threat. Just a man who had been close to death... and had been pulled back.
"I didn’t think you’d come," Darius said after a pause. His voice was low, not as commanding as before, touched by a humility that seemed foreign on him.
Lucas crossed his arms loosely and gave a half shrug. "I had to make sure the patient I nearly beat myself was still alive."