Julian's POV
Sleep evaded me as I watched Aurelia's chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. Her feverish skin worried me, prompting me to place a cool cloth on her forehead. The doctor had assured me she would recover physically, but her emotional wounds—the ones I'd inflicted—those would take much longer to heal, if they ever could.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, though she couldn't hear me.
Her hand twitched in her sleep, and I gently took it in mine. Even unconscious, she tried to pull away.
"No... don't touch... Violet..." she murmured, her face contorting in pain.
Each word was a fresh wound. I deserved this agony and more.
I noticed small cuts on her palms, likely from the ceramic shards when she'd cradled the broken mug. Reaching for the bedside table, I retrieved a small jar containing a rare healing salve made from wolfsbane and silver thistle—painfully expensive and difficult to obtain.
"This will help," I said softly, applying the green-tinged ointment to her cuts.
