Alina woke in a haze of pain, the world spinning around her. She was lying on a soft bed, the scent of medicinal herbs filling the air. Groaning, she tried to move, only to find her shoulder wrapped in tight bandages that burned with every attempt to shift.
A shadow loomed over her, and she turned her head to see Kael sitting by her bedside. His face was unreadable, a storm brewing in his eyes as he watched her struggle.
"You are awake," he said quietly, his voice stripped of its usual coldness. There was something softer there, a gentleness that she had never seen before.
Alina's lips were dry, her throat raw. "What happened?" she croaked, the memories of the masquerade returning in flashes—the masked attacker, the searing pain, Kael's arms catching her as she fell.
"You took a blade meant for me," Kael replied, his voice tense. "Why?"
Alina swallowed, struggling to find her words. "I... I couldn't let you die," she said softly. "You are my king."
Kael's eyes flashed with something akin to fury, but he quickly masked it. "You are a fool," he muttered, rising abruptly to his feet. "Do you think your sacrifice would change anything? This palace would swallow you whole and forget your name."
Alina's heart clenched at the harshness of his words, but she could see the anguish hidden beneath his anger. She knew him well enough by now to recognize that this was his way of expressing fear—for her, perhaps, or for something even he could not name.
"You should have let me die," he said quietly, turning his back to her. "Now you have only made yourself a bigger target."
Before she could respond, he stormed out of the room, leaving Alina alone with her thoughts. As she lay there, fighting the pain in her shoulder, she couldn't help but wonder—had she truly saved a king, or had she only doomed herself?