Chapter 50: Don’t Apologise

Tears, hot and fast, welled up in her dark eyes.

"I don’t hurt," she whispered, her lower lip trembling violently. She reached her small hands up and cupped his cheeks, feeling the rough stubble against her palms. "I’m okay, Papa. The burning is gone. I’m sorry I woke up and left the room. I just wanted to let you sleep. You look so tired."

Kaelus closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers.

A long, shuddering exhale ripped through his chest, carrying with it seventy-two hours of absolute, paralyzing dread.

"Do not ever," Kaelus whispered fiercely, his voice vibrating against her skull, "apologize for my exhaustion. If the journey is too much to bear, I’ll carry you back to the North myself."

At that moment, he wanted to say, ’Your life is the only thing in this Empire that matters to me. The journey is irrelevant. If you require a year to recover, we will stay here for a year. If this estate harms you again, I will tear it down stone by stone.’

But he couldn’t.

Because, before his own life, the empire and its people came first.

How could he promise and break the heart of this small child?

He opened his eyes, pulling back to look at her, his expression hardening into an unyielding, unbreakable vow.

"You did nothing wrong, Seraphina. You are my daughter. My health, my sleep, my time— they all belong to you. Do you understand me?"

Seraphina couldn’t speak.

Her throat closed up completely, choked by a massive, overwhelming ball of emotion.

She had never, in either of her lives, heard someone say that their time belonged to her.

She had always been the one struggling to earn a second of someone else’s day.

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks, dripping onto Kaelus’s armored wrists.

She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face into his collar, and sobbed.

It wasn’t a cry of pain or terror.

It was the loud, messy, profound crying of a child who finally, truly understood that she was loved.

Kaelus held her, ignoring the tear stains forming on his expensive shirt.

He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently, his dark, exhausted eyes glaring fiercely down the hallway, daring the universe to try and take her from him again.

Gallahan, still kneeling a few feet away, was currently biting his own armored gauntlet to muffle the loud, blubbering sobs tearing from his own throat.

He was an absolute wreck.

Ten minutes later, the chaotic emotional storm in the hallway had settled, replaced by a flurry of hyper-vigilant medical activity.

Seraphina had been gently deposited back into the center of the massive four-poster bed.

She was propped up on a mountain of silk pillows, sipping warm broth from a silver bowl while looking thoroughly embarrassed by the amount of attention she was receiving.

Dr. Thorne, the Bastion’s one-eyed physician, was hovering over her like a mother hen with a medical degree.

He was currently checking her pulse for the fourth time in five minutes, muttering arcane medical terminology under his breath while his diagnostic crystal glowed a reassuring, healthy green.

Kaelus stood by the head of the bed, his arms crossed, watching the doctor’s every movement with the intensity of a hawk watching a field mouse.

He had refused to sit down, wash his face, or change his wrinkled clothes until Dr. Thorne gave him a verbal confirmation of her health.

Meanwhile, outside the open bedroom door, a completely different, highly comedic situation was unfolding in the hallway.

Sir Lucas and Sir Boris had sprinted to the guest annex the moment they heard the Lady was awake.

They were currently cornering Sir Gallahan against a tapestry.

"You absolute, unmitigated imbecile," Sir Lucas hissed in a furious, incredibly aggressive whisper, jabbing a thick, scarred finger directly into Gallahan’s chestplate. "You made her cry? The first thing she does after waking from a three-day coma is cry, and she was talking to you?!"

"I didn’t make her cry!" Gallahan whisper-yelled back, his eyes still red and puffy, looking incredibly defensive. "She was feeling guilty! She apologized for delaying the schedule! I was actively trying to tell her the schedule was garbage!"

"You should have thrown yourself out a window to distract her from her guilt!" Boris rumbled, his massive hands gripping Gallahan’s shoulders and giving him a violent, rattling shake. "You failed your primary directive, Gallahan! You are supposed to be the ’fun’ uncle! Now she thinks we care about the Emperor’s meeting more than her!"

"I don’t think that!" Seraphina called out from the bed, holding her soup bowl up. "Sir Gally is innocent! He gave me water! Leave him alone, or I will order Fluffy to eat your boots!"

Lucas and Boris instantly froze.

They poked their heads into the doorway, completely ignoring Gallahan, and beamed at the child.

"Of course, My Lady!" Lucas chirped, his gruff voice pitching up in an entirely unnatural, friendly tone. "Gallahan is a saint! We were just... aggressively complimenting his water-pouring technique!"

"Yes!" Boris nodded vigorously. "He pours water like a true champion!"

Kaelus let out a low, exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You guys are too noisy, disperse. You are polluting the air. Go to the kitchens and ensure her next meal is prepared to the exact specifications I provided three days ago."

"Yes, Your Grace!" The three knights saluted simultaneously, practically tripping over each other as they scrambled down the hallway to terrorize the Marquess’s chefs.

Dr. Thorne finally stepped back, packing his glowing crystal away into his leather bag.

"Well?" Kaelus demanded, his voice tight.

"She is remarkably resilient, Your Grace," Dr. Thorne said, offering a rare, genuine smile. "Her temperature is perfectly normal. Her mana pathways, which were fluctuating wildly just three days ago, have settled into a calm, steady rhythm. Her pulse is strong. Besides natural fatigue and hunger from the fasting, she is completely healthy. It is as if the... ’chill’... never happened."