"People are dying, Ric. I can't stop because I'm tired."
"You promised me you'd be careful."
"And I have been." She replied.
He stepped around the table until he stood before her, blocking the light.
"Careful doesn't mean working until you collapse."
"I'm not..."
The word barely left her lips before her knees buckled.
Alaric's reflexes saved her from hitting the ground. His arms wrapped around her as the vial rolled off the table and shattered.
"Daphne!"
Her head rested weakly against his chest.
"Just… dizzy," she murmured.
He didn't answer, only lifted her into his arms and storm out.
When they reached their chamber, he laid her carefully on the bed, brushing damp strands of hair from her face.
Her skin was now pale. Her lips too cold.
He paced, once...twice, before sitting beside her, his elbows on his knees, his hands pressed to his face.
"You promised me," he muttered, voice shaking. "You swore you'd take care of yourself."
