Her lips had turned a purplish blue, like the color of a fresh bruise. She was slipping away, and his fingers tightened around her hand, the reality of her loss causing an iron grip of pain in his heart.
There was always a saying that one doesn't know what he has until he loses it, and that couldn't have been more true for Zavian. He had been sufficient with the knowledge of Freya as a great fighter who harm could never touch, and he had been too comfortable having her around. As she was lying before him, barely alive, he knew grief and regret would be there to consume his own life if anything ever happened to her.
"What about the Queen?" The doctor asked tactfully.
"She's still asleep."
"For how long now, your Majesty?"
"An entire day now," Zavian answered. "Her sleep deprivation was bad."
"Indeed, it was," the demon agreed. "She should be better when she awakes."
"I hope so," Zavian said quietly.
