[Haldor's POV—Imperial Palace—Lavinia's Chamber—Night]
She didn't wake up.
That was the first thing I understood.
Not immediately. Not all at once. It crept in slowly, like frost over glass—cold, inevitable, and cruel. Lavinia lay still beneath the sheets, her chest rising and falling. Breathing—but wrong. Too shallow. Too quiet. Like the world was afraid to touch her again.
I stayed where I was, right beside the bed. I hadn't moved since she collapsed. My knees hurt. My hands were numb. I didn't care.
"Wake up," I whispered again, for the hundredth time. "You already scared everyone enough. You've made your point."
No answer; her fingers were cold in my grasp. Not dead, but not here. Behind me, the room was chaos trying to pretend it wasn't.
The twins cried.
Thin, piercing sounds—new, furious, alive. Each cry stabbed straight through my ribs, because she wasn't here to hear them.
She hadn't seen them.
She hadn't held them.
