I watched the man in front of me, my hands glowing with soft, golden light as I healed his wounds.
Arthur lay still, his breath steady but heavy, his body recovering from the absurd levels of power he had just forced himself to wield. The injuries were deep, layered with exhaustion that went beyond the physical.
I pursed my lips.
Then I asked.
"Did you predict this?"
Arthur's eyes widened slightly. He looked at me, but he didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
I knew him too well.
"When the Baron told me the Knight Captain was busy, I knew you were here," he finally said, voice rough but calm. "So I had to adjust my plans accordingly."
I frowned. "Why didn't you just call me?" My voice was sharper than I intended. "Why didn't you tell me before going up against a Bishop?"
Arthur exhaled, closing his eyes briefly. Then he looked at me again, and there was something raw, something achingly real in his gaze.
"I need to be stronger, Rachel," he murmured.
