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“I don’t need it, your Majesty. Consider them shoes yours. All I need is for you to forgive me,” the guard read out.

“You are forgiven,” Neera said. The demon’s face froze, as if he didn’t expect it to be that easy.

Zavian took a closer look at Neera. She was different, in a way that Zavian could not pinpoint. But there was something softer around her edges, her aura pillowed by something other than her usual aggression and thirst for fights.

“I have to go, I am not feeling too well,” Neera said, turning to leave the hall.

Zavian was on his feet at once, and he followed her. She barely made it past the passageway before he stopped her, a hand holding hers.

Neera gasped at the contact, and Zavian was confused.

“Neera, what’s wrong?” He asked.

“It won’t stop,” Neera whispered, looking at their joined hands. “It won’t stop.”

.....

“What won’t stop?”

“It’s everywhere. I can’t see anything else.”

“Neera!” Zavian’s hands seized both her forearms and shook her, willing her to look up at him. Tears sprung in her eyes, and that sensation that passed within her- the one that had sat like a pile of nerves in her stomach- thrummed at her power again, and broke with a surge of something compelling that her knees buckled beneath her.

Zavian held her steady. “How long ago have you slept?”

“I don’t know, I try,” Neera said, slouching against his frame. He held her against him, and her head pounded with a headache.

Zavian summoned the closest guard he could find. “I’ll be back. Tell the people to wait.”

The guard nodded, glancing at the Queen just before he went back to ensure rules were put into place. Zavian bent and carried Neera, and she had her eyes closed, moans coming out of her as she massaged her temple.

Zavian took her up the stairs and to their quarters. Inside, he set her on the bed and covered her up.

“You need to sleep, Neera,” Zavian said. “I think you are hallucinating from the lack of sleep. You are a demon, but you still need rest.”

Neera moaned, and Zavian moved to draw the heavy drapes close, blocking off the soft beams of sunlight that filtered in, and the room was cast in the dark.

“What did she give me?” He heard Neera say.

“What did who give you?” Zavian asked.

“I keep seeing things I don’t want to see...,” Neera pressed the heels of her palms on her closed lids. “I want it to stop.”

Zavian reached for the bedside drawer and brought out a dark bottle of tranquilizer. He put it close to Neera’s mouth, and she shook at the strong smell, her eyes flying open.

“Just drink,” he told her.

Neera didn’t ask questions, and took a sip, face pinched at the taste. She rested her head back on the pillow, and Zavian’s fingers stroked the side of her face, while his concerned face hovered above hers.

The memories attacked again, and Neera found herself looking up to eyes crinkled with mirth and pressing kisses on her face while she had laughed sleepily. The day looked just the same.

“You should be able to sleep now,” Zavian had said.

“You should go away, and let me sleep.”

“I am trying to lull you to sleep with my kisses.”

Neera had laughed. “When did kisses have powers?”

“Since the very first day you gave me yours,” Zavian answered. “You were what has been missing in my life all these years.”

Neera then smiled. “You come up with the corniest lines, Zavian.”

“Neera?” Neera heard her name being called, as if from a distant hill echoing through a vast, empty land. The veil of memories lifted, and she was able to see the real Zavian in front of her, still carrying the weight of the worry.

“What if I go crazy, Zavian? I feel like I am going to.” Neera relayed her fears.

“You won’t, I promise you’re going to be fine,” Zavian said, fingers still stroking her face in that assuring way.

Neera felt her lids droop. “You say the corniest lines, Zavian.” She said, just as the tranquilizer swept her off into sleep.

Zavian stopped stroking, stunned by her last words.

You say the corniest lines, Zavian...

Those were words Lilah had always said.

....

“She isn’t getting better,” the doctor sighed after examining Freya. He stared at her recumbent form, his face grave.

“I thought the worst has already been dealt with,” Zavian said.

“And I said it is a miracle if she pulls through, your Majesty,” the doctor’s voice was sympathetic, consoling. “But right now, things aren’t looking too good.”

Zavian looked down at Freya’s form. Her bandages had been changed, and drugs had been injected into her, yet the only sign of life was her breathing. But he could see what the doctor meant; her skin was turning a dull grey, despite being sponged in a bath every day.

He had seen that dull grey before.

Only it had consumed faster. When Aloysius had taken Lilah’s heart, her body had turned grey rapidly, right before she turned to ash in his hands, and now his sister was taking on that colour.

“Is there anything more we can do?” Zavian asked for what was probably the tenth time that afternoon.

“I’m afraid I have done my best,” the doctor answered again, and in that sympathetic tone. “Perhaps, you should prepare yourself.”

Zavian flared at that. “Are you telling me to accept that she is going to die?”

“No, I am not, your Majesty,” the demon quickly said. “I am just telling you to prepare yourself for whatever happens.”

“Stick to treating her, and nothing more,” Zavian said.

The demon nodded. “Yes, your Majesty.”

Zavian sat next to his sister and took one of her hands. It was cold, and heavier, despite the sun’s heat that permeated through the walls.