Hours stretch like days.
No one leaves the Grand Hall.
Even with Lord Edric and the guards gone to search for Oman, the air stays thick with anxiety, questions, and silence.
Cassian hasn't spoken a word to me since the Queen's confession.
He sits a short distance away, rigid, unreadable, like a man caught between two earthquakes and unsure which direction will collapse first.
Shea still avoids the Queen's gaze but lingers in the corner, arms crossed tightly over her chest. I can feel her watching me.
The lights above begin to feel too bright.
My skin suddenly prickles.
My breath turns shallow.
Something's wrong.
I press my palm to my forehead and try to steady myself. My vision swims.
I try to stand, to call out to one of the doctors who remains near the side but my knees buckle beneath me.
Everything tilts sideways.
And the next thing I know…
Cassian is shouting my name.
Strong arms catch me before I hit the marble floor.
Gasps erupt.
Chairs scrape back. The council members rise. Panic buzzes like electricity through the room.
Cassian gathers me in his arms and lays me gently onto a collapsible lounge chair one of the guards hurriedly sets up. His hands tremble slightly as he brushes hair from my face. "Celeste. Stay with me."
My eyelids flutter. I feel weightless. Cold.
Shea kneels beside him, her voice quiet but urgent. "She's pale. Look at her lips…"
One of the royal doctors rushes over with a portable drip and a satchel of supplies. "She needs fluids. Quickly."
As he inserts the IV, I hear the Queen's weak voice from her recovery chair.
"She needs food," she says. Her tone, for once, is soft and concerned. "Give her something to eat."
Cassian looks around. "Where is Esther? Someone…"
"I'm here," Esther calls from the door, arriving just in time with a small silver tray. "The fastest I could make. Sandwiches, soft salad, water."
The food is placed beside me. The doctor nods approvingly but warns, "Slowly. Just enough to restore energy, no sudden rush."
Cassian lifts the sandwich, tearing it gently into pieces. "Here," he whispers, offering the first piece. "Just a bite."
I manage to chew. Then another bite. And another.
Shea remains at my side, watching with genuine worry.
I catch her glance. For a second and for a strange moment, there's no rivalry, no shadows, just one woman caring for another.
The drip slows.
The color returns to my cheeks.
The dizzying fog begins to lift.
I lean back, breathing steadier now.
Cassian presses a kiss to the back of my hand, not in passion, not in duty, but in sheer relief.
"She'll be fine," the doctor confirms. "She has pushed too hard too soon after the transfusion. She'll need rest after this."
The Queen watches all this quietly and expressionless