The infirmary was ready when we arrived, like they’d been preparing from the moment the portal opened. Beds lined up, supplies organized, more staff waiting with fierce determination. They transferred Mal from the stretcher to a bed with careful efficiency that spoke of too much practice with wounded royalty.
Then they went to work.
I stood in the corner, arms wrapped around myself, and watched every single movement they made. Cleaning first, washing away the red to see the damage underneath. The gash in his side was deep, cutting through muscle down to bone. I could see white where I shouldn’t be able to see white. His ribs were fractured in multiple places, the skin already darkening with bruises that spread across his torso like ink in water.
I’d seen him injured before. Scratches and cuts from training, the occasional wound from diplomatic incidents gone wrong. Never like this. Never lying unconscious while people worked frantically to keep him alive.
They used herbs ground into paste and spread across the wounds. Stitches for what his slow healing couldn’t close completely. Bandages wrapped around his ribs to stabilize them. The process took what felt like hours but was probably closer to one.
I counted every second. Every breath he took. Every beat of his heart visible in his throat.
Finally, the head healer stepped back and approached me. Her face was professionally neutral but her eyes told a different story.
“The wounds are closed,” she said carefully. “The internal damage is healing. He should be waking up soon.”
“Should be?” I latched onto those words immediately. “What does that mean?”
She hesitated.
That hesitation was worse than anything she could have said.
“He is not healing as fast as he should be,” she admitted slowly. “I do not know why.”
My hands clenched at my sides. “What do you mean you don’t know why?”
“I do not know, Your Majesty,” she said, and I could hear the frustration underneath the professional calm. “His body should be recovering faster. He is a powerful wolf, an alpha. One of the strongest we have. But something is slowing the process.”
“Then fix it.” My voice came out harder than I intended. “I don’t care what it costs. I don’t care what you need. Fix it.”
“We are trying, Your Majesty. We are doing everything we can.”
But it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough.
The medical staff left to tend to the other hurt guards, promising to check on Mal regularly. I moved to his bedside the moment they were gone and grabbed his hand. It was warm. That had to be good. That had to mean something.
I sank into the chair beside the bed.
“Don’t leave me,” I whispered. “I can’t do this without you. Killian can’t do this without you. We need you.” I squeezed his hand tighter. “And if you die, I swear to every god in every realm, I will find a way to bring you back just so I can kill you myself for putting me through this.”
His face stayed pale. His breathing stayed too light. But he was alive. His pulse was visible in his throat, steady if weak.
That was enough for now.
***
Hours crept by with agonizing slowness. The medical team came and went, checking vitals, adjusting bandages. Each timesomeone entered, I looked up hopefully. Each time they left without good news, something in my chest sank a little further.
Mal didn’t wake or move. Didn’t give any sign that he could hear me talking to him in a steady stream of words and threats and promises.
I told him about Killian’s latest obsession with trying to make his portals sparkle. About the book I’d been reading that had a terrible ending and I was going to write a strongly worded letter to the author. About how I was going to make him take me somewhere warm and sunny when he recovered because I deserved a vacation after this level of stress. About how the cook had made those pastries he liked and he was missing them and I might eat them all myself out of spite.
Stupid things. Important things. Anything to fill the silence.
“You know,” I said at one point, my voice hoarse, “if you’re doing this for attention, it’s working. You have my complete and undivided attention. Congratulations. You can wake up now.”
Nothing.
“This is very dramatic of you,” I continued. “Very theatrical. I’m impressed. But the performance can end anytime. I’ve seen enough.”
