Chapter forty nine
The days that followed my victory in the Games were a blur of congratulations, whispered rumors, and a disquieting sense of unease. Damian remained by my side, a constant presence despite the tension that still hung heavy between us. We spoke little, both lost in our thoughts.
The disquiet grew into a full-fledged alarm when a persistent fatigue settled over me. The vibrant energy that had fueled my victory seemed to have drained away, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. The simplest tasks left me breathless, and a nagging headache throbbed behind my eyes.
Mira, her brows perpetually furrowed with worry, insisted I see the court physician. He, a portly man with a thick beard and a booming voice, examined me with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"Hmm," he muttered, stroking his beard thoughtfully after a thorough examination. "No outward signs of illness, Your Highness. However, your pulse is weak, and you exhibit a curious lack of energy."