Page 23 of The Crown's Awakening
He does not elaborate. Something moves through his expression, brief and contained, gone before it can be named.
His father had said it once, laughing.
Feeders do not love. They are not loved.
He had believed him, for a while. In truth, he still did.
“Oh, and Corfaris?”
“Yes, Majesty?”
“How is Lord Mysin enjoying his new accommodations below?”
A brief pause.
“He is… responsive, Majesty.”
Sevrin nods once. “Good.”
The servant bows and leaves. The door closes behind him.
Sevrin remains seated. The map does not change. The line holds exactly where it should. He reaches for the goblet again, adjusts the fork by a fraction, and lets his hand fall back to the table.
There is nothing to correct. There is no reason to rush.
He waits.
CHAPTER 8
The Deck
Iclosed my eyes and wait for it to pass, but it does not. My stomach tightens again, harder this time, pulling the air from my lungs as I lean forward against the restraint. The motion comes before I can stop it, my body reacting without my permission, a dry heave forcing its way through me with nothing behind it.
“Fuck—”
The second one follows right after, rough enough to leave my throat raw. The door opens, and I don’t look at him. I don’t have the space for it. Another wave hits, and this time I can’t hold it back. I turn as much as the restraint allows, my shoulders straining against it as I gag again, the sound breaking out of me before I can stop it.
He crosses the room quickly. “Stop.”
“I’m trying—” The words don’t finish. Another wave cuts them off, folding through me hard enough that I lose the rest of my breath with it.
The restraint loosens suddenly. I barely register it before his hand is at my back, steadying me as I lean forward, my body still trying to force something that isn’t there.
“This is stupid,” he mutters, more to himself than to me. “You need air.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I said I’m fine?—”
He doesn’t argue. His arm comes around me, firm enough that I feel it immediately, pulling me upright before I can brace against anything. I try to push him away, but the effort breaks apart halfway through, my strength failing before it can turn into anything useful.
“Let go of me.”
“No.”
“I don’t need?—”
