"Is my son stable? How long do you think it will be suppressed?" The Queen's voice reached Consort Freya's ears.
The King and Queen were talking to the Archmage at the corner of the corridor. Their voices were faint but audible.
Freya's grip on the tray tightened as she took a deep breath and knocked on the door. A muffled sound was heard from the other side as she opened the door.
"Was it bad?" asked Freya as she closed the door and walked towards the person lying on the bed.
"No," said Dion and passed a faint smile, "Didn't hurt at all."
Freya placed the tray on the bedside table and sat on the chair by the bed, "Your face says otherwise," she wiped the sweat off of Dion's forehead with a handkerchief.
"I'm sorry," Freya said as she wiped his face. Dion smiled, "It's okay..."
"Stop saying it is okay when it is not!" Freya snapped, "The least you can do is not be so kind to me. It is unsettling"