Chapter 77

The world shifted in an instant.

One moment, Aeliana was tangled with him in the sheets, her breath still unsteady, her skin flushed with warmth from their shared fire.

The next-she was collapsing.

Tharx barely had time to catch her before she hit the ground.

"Aeliana." His voice was sharp, the kind of command that could stop armies in their tracks.

She did not respond.

She did not move.

His heart slammed against his ribs, a brutal, unfamiliar panic clawing its way up his throat. He laid her down carefully on the bed, pressing his fingers against her wrist, feeling for a pulse that was too fast, too erratic. Her skin was warm-too warm.

This wasn't exhaustion. This wasn't something simple.

Something was wrong.

His fingers moved to her cheek, tilting her face toward him. "Aeliana," he murmured again, softer now.

Still, nothing.

His vision narrowed, his blood roaring in his ears. No. No, this was not happening.

Tharx moved before he could think. Yanking the door open with such force that the wood splintered in his grip.

The guards outside the chamber snapped to attention.

"Get the physician," Tharx ordered, his voice a growl, dangerous and unshaking.

The nearest guard hesitated. "My lord-"

Tharx turned his gaze to him, and the man paled instantly.

"Now."

The guard bolted.

Tharx slammed the door shut behind him, his breath ragged, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

She was still on the bed, her chest rising and falling too shallowly.

What was happening to her?

He crossed the room, sitting beside her, his hand pressing against her stomach, her ribs-searching for wounds, for something he might have missed. But there was nothing.

No cuts. No bruises. No blood.

She had been fine.

And then she hadn't been.

Tharx's jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He reached for her hand, lifting it between his own, pressing his lips against her fingers.

"You are stronger than this," he muttered, his voice rough, his thumb brushing along her skin. "You will not leave me."

She didn't stir.

His grip tightened.

The door burst open behind him.

The royal physician rushed in, his apprentice at his heels, both men looking half-afraid to be in the same room as the Emperor in this state.

Tharx didn't move.

"Fix her." His voice was sharp, cold, lethal.

The physician trembled as he approached.

"Yes, my lord."

The examination was agonizing.

Tharx watched every movement, tracking the physician's hands as he checked her pulse, felt along her jaw, lifted her eyelids. The apprentice muttered something about checking for poisons, for traces of magic, for anything unnatural.

Tharx remained perfectly still. But the room itself felt like it was vibrating with the force of his rage.

Finally, after long, torturous minutes, the physician swallowed hard.

"There is nothing, my lord."

Silence.

Tharx's hands flexed, his breathing measured, forced.

Nothing.

There was nothing?

"No poison," the physician continued quickly. "No injury, no curse that I can detect. Her body is simply weakened. But I do not know why."

Tharx exhaled slowly, his fingers digging into his thighs.

Weak.

Aeliana was not weak.

She was fire and fury and steel, a woman who had never yielded, never faltered, never broken.

And now, she lay there-motionless, vulnerable, slipping further away from him with every second.

He couldn't accept that.

He wouldn't.

The physician hesitated before speaking again. "She needs rest, my lord. I will continue to monitor her condition-"

Tharx stood so suddenly the chair beneath him scraped against the stone.

The physician flinched.

"Rest?" Tharx's voice was dangerously soft. "That is your answer?"

The physician's face went ashen. "It is the only answer I have, my Emperor."

Tharx moved before he could stop himself.

The goblet on the bedside table flew across the chamber, smashing into the wall, metal and glass exploding upon impact.

The physician's apprentice yelped.

The physician himself simply shut his eyes and waited.

Tharx exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled.

"She does not wake," he said, voice like steel. "And you tell me to be patient?"

The physician bowed deeply, nearly folding himself in half. "My Emperor, please. There is nothing more I can do at this moment."

The tension in the air was unbearable.

But after what felt like an eternity, Tharx turned away from him, his focus shifting back to Aeliana.

He sat down on the edge of the bed once more, taking her hand again, running his thumb over her palm.

"She stays in this room," he said. "No one else comes near her."

The physician nodded quickly. "Yes, my lord."

"Return when you have real answers."

The two men didn't waste a second. They were gone within moments.

The door shut, and Tharx was left alone with his queen, still and silent in their bed.

The next morning, he did not go to court.

He did not eat. He did not sleep.

The attendants came and went, but no one dared to speak unless spoken to.

The silence stretched into the afternoon.

Vaelkor arrived just before sundown, standing stiffly at the doorway, his usual mask of calm betrayed by the tension in his shoulders.

Tharx barely glanced at him.

"The court is restless," Vaelkor said carefully. "The nobles will notice your absence soon."

"They can rot."

Vaelkor sighed. "Tharx-"

Tharx finally looked at him, his golden eyes burning.

Vaelkor fell silent.

A long pause.

Then, Tharx turned back to Aeliana.

He reached out, brushing his fingers through her hair.

"She does not wake," he murmured. "I will not leave her."

Vaelkor studied him for a long moment. Then, finally, he gave a slow nod.

"I will handle the court."

He left without another word.

Tharx didn't move.

Didn't look away.

Didn't breathe.

Just watched her.

Just waited.