บท 71: Nine years before this

The room felt too small.

Aric sat curled on a thick velvet cushion, his tiny, frail body leaning against the stone wall. His legs dangled off the side of the seat, feet barely brushing the ground.

The air was cool, the chill of a fading summer creeping through the cracks of the old palace walls, but Aric felt warmer than usual, a slight fever running beneath his skin.

His caretaker, a woman with a kind face, moved about the room. Normally, she hummed softly as she worked, always with a calmness that made the boy feel safe.

But today, there was no humming. She fidgeted instead, her movements sharp and restless, her hands wringing a cloth that didn't need wringing.

Aric noticed how her eyes flickered toward the door every few moments, a tightness in her brow that hadn't been there before.