King Harvey’s mother walks out of the room with her husband.
Doris takes her place and looks at me.
“Elena, King Harvey is still not fully healed. His arm is tender, and he needs more tending to.” King Harvey’s mother explains, then sternly looks at me.
“Oh, of course, I will take care of him.” Pulling up a chair beside King Harvey, I offer a hand to him, he takes it with his left hand and squeezes lightly.
The skin on his right arm looks fully flesh but is very pale, and very smooth like porcelain. It looks like it would break if I touched his wounded arm. The small honeycomb pattern on his skin is mostly gone, but there are faint white lines.
“Pain, Harvey?” I ask as I lean down to look at his arm.
“Little.” King Harvey exhales. “Exhausted. I didn’t sleep night.”
Out of nowhere, K
