Alaric's gaze lingered on his wife, then shifted back to the Emperor.
"This room will be gutted to its bones," he said at last.
The Emperor's lips curved faintly, though his face was pale.
"You see, Alaric… she is fiercer than you let on. You wage war with armies, but she… she wars with shadows."
Daphne lowered her gaze, her hands tightening around her case of instruments. "I don't want a war. I want you alive."
The words hung in the air.
The Emperor's eyes softened at her, but Alaric's jaw flexed, his silence more dangerous than any words.
At last, the Emperor let out a breath, closing his eyes.
"Then we will fight this together. Buy me time, Rose Daphne. And you, Ric, find the hand that dares reach for my life."
Daphne's hands moved with precision, her case of instruments open on the side table.
She pressed needles into key points along the Emperor's arm and chest, coaxing his breathing to steady, then applied a bitter-smelling salve she had mixed from her own herbs.
