"Do we really have to do this?" I muttered, glaring at the floor as His Majesty's arm steadied me. My legs were shaky, weak from disuse, and every step felt like a monumental effort. The last thing I wanted was to make a fool of myself in front of him—again.
"Yes," he replied firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You will have to do this if you want to get better."
I clenched my jaw, swallowing the urge to groan as I forced myself to take one step at a time. My pride was already hanging by a thread, and the last thing I needed was for him to see me stumble and whin like a pup.
His hand remained on my arm, guiding me with a strength that felt both reassuring and unnerving. He was too close—so close that I could feel the heat radiating from him. The scent of him, a mix of woods and something darker, like the sharp tang of iron, wrapped around me like a second skin. It was intoxicating, distracting, and far too appealing for my liking.
