The palace had a rhythm, and Chris hated how easily it kept going without Dax in it.
The air smelled the same, sterilized and faintly floral from the vents, but the silence underneath had changed. Dax left the day he returned from Rohan, with a memory of a kiss and… Chris thinking he is losing his fucking mind.
He was at war with Hanna and if he thought that before was bad, now, after five days without Dax or Killian, Chris contemplated that trying to run, even if futile, would be better than this hellhole.
His hands were gripping the edge of the bassinet until his knuckles went white. He stared into the mirror across the room at the black eyes that didn't look like his anymore. Hollow. Tired. Over everything else. The patch on his arm pulsed in quiet, traitorous rhythm, cycling through colors that weren't purple. Which meant Nadia would find him soon.
