"She's burning up..." Aldric grumbled. "I swear to God, if her temperature doesn't drop soon, your next destination will be the afterlife."
"…You struck the back of her head too hard," Samandra commented, her words syncing with the throbbing at the base of Adela's skull.
"Enough with the pointless chatter! It's snowing. Go gather some for her."
"As you wish, Your Holiness."
As the door closed behind Samandra, the noise of Adela's teeth clattering grew louder—or perhaps they were chattering more vigorously as she contemplated the idea of snow touching her forehead with her body already so frigid.
Cold... She had never experienced such bone-chilling cold in her entire life.
"Shh... I will remedy this, even if it means I have to inform my counselors about what I've done. My warlocks will obey my command," he said solemnly, before adding another layer atop the many already covering her.
"…"
