As the Queen Dowager watched Selene's figure disappear through the doorway, she felt the exhaustion creeping deeper into her bones. The weight of her own body pressed down on her, the sickness pulling at her like unseen chains. Every breath was a battle, every movement an effort.
She clenched her fingers into the sheets as the physician approached, carrying a small bowl of soup. His hands were steady as he set it down beside her, but she could feel his gaze on her, watching, calculating.
"You must eat, Your Majesty," he said in a calm, controlled tone. "It will help regain your strength."
The Dowager exhaled slowly, barely able to lift her hand as he helped her hold the spoon. She despised this weakness, this reliance on another. She had ruled with an iron will for decades—now she lay i
