Phoebe's POV
A crushing wave of guilt slammed into me like a physical blow. My legs gave out, and I stumbled against the wall, using it to keep from collapsing completely. The overwhelming emotion hit me with the force of a bursting dam.
My chest constricted. Each breath felt like swallowing broken glass.
"Are you alright, my queen?" The warrior's voice reached me through the haze of pain. He stepped closer but maintained respectful distance—touching royalty without permission was forbidden.
I lifted my head, knowing my face must look ghostly pale from the way his worry deepened.
'Yes, I'm fine,' I mouthed the words and nodded, hoping he could understand my silent response.
After steadying myself against the stone wall, I straightened my spine. I had duties to fulfill, regardless of my emotional state.
Word had reached me that the healer had finally woken up. I prayed Marcela wouldn't be sleeping when I arrived—I needed to see her alive, breathing, whole.
