Lorelai's gaze drifted to the bowl of soup resting on her nightstand. Its faint, savory aroma wafted under her nose, tempting her to reach for it. Yet, despite her empty stomach, she felt no appetite, no inclination to eat. Her body ached, and her thoughts were too heavy to allow her even the smallest comfort.
It had been hours since she returned from Althea's chambers, her body weak and her spirit drained.
The memory of what happened there lingered, unsettling her. For the first time, the queen had taken it upon herself to perform the bloodletting, a task typically left to her attendants. Lorelai still couldn't forget the chilling precision with which Althea had made the incision.
The cut on her left arm was deep and wide, and the blood extracted from her seemed endless, leaving her pale and fragile, as if she'd been completely emptied of life.
