Mirabella stood a safe distance from the bed, her head lowered and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She fidgeted with her fingers nervously, sneaking a glance at the king. But when she realized his piercing glare remained fixed on her, she quickly lowered her gaze again, standing obediently like a scolded child.
Seriously, this wasn't her fault!
The sudden fire had startled her, and with the parchment on the king's lap, her first instinct had been to extinguish it. Without thinking, she'd grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand and splashed it on him. Unfortunately, in her panic, she'd soaked him entirely. And to make matters worse, the mysterious fire hadn't left a single scratch on him.
Now she felt a little guilty. The night winds of Dusthaven were already biting cold, and she'd only made it worse by dousing him with water. Feeling terrible, she bit her lip and moved to the cupboard, retrieving a clean white towel. Hesitantly, she stretched it toward the king.
