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Haven clasped my hands together and pressed his forehead against the back of them, then took deep breaths, lowering his head.
How severe might the stomach pain be to cause difficulty breathing? Or perhaps it wasn't a stomach issue, but poisoning.
"Haven, we really should see the royal doctor right away."
"They can't cure what ails me, Your Majesty."
His expression was hidden by his lowered head, but his suppressed voice made my heart sink.
Haven wasn't usually a man who would sound so weak.
Edwin had said I lived with Haven until I was twenty-eight, which meant he had been healthy enough to plot rebellion.
Then, had he fallen ill upon coming to the palace?
"Haven, look at me, huh?"
Slowly, he lifted his head. His forlorn expression pierced my heart.
Could his sudden illness after being in good health up north be because he came to the palace? Had I been overworking him?
"Your Majesty..."
