King Arhan threw down his pen and buried his head in his hands, closed his eyes and silently begged any god that might be listening to please make his damned head stop hurting.
The letters and numbers in front of him refused to hold still and make sense. His breakfast had wound up in the chamber pot and he'd given up any further thoughts of food. He had barely slept the past couple of days, between him worrying about Lucia and staying up late to tackle the work he had been neglected thus far.
All he wanted right at this moment was to take a rest and sleep for several hours, pretend that everything would be well when he woke up. Lucia and Lestor would be back, and have someone who could help him run the damned Kingdom.
Mercy of the Pantheon, he hoped Lucia, Lestor, and the others were d
