War of the Wives (3)
Argider lay motionless upon the grand canopied bed, a vision of pallor draped in an unflattering, hastily tied rope.
A trio of grim-faced doctors hovered over her. The gaping wound on her arm was being meticulously cleansed, though from the amount of wincing the healers exchanged, it was clear the prognosis wasn't great.
At her bedside stood Duke Arctera, a picture of noble focus. He was muttering an incantation, his voice low and steady. Tiny wisps of golden light gathered at his fingertips, spiraling toward Argider's mangled arm.
Each of the Eminent Households received a gift uniquely suited to their heritage and purpose. The Arctera household, revered as a sanctuary of knowledge, was bestowed with the power to study and wield magic spells, a gift granted by the very Sceptre itself.
His brows furrowed, sweat dotting his temples. The power of his family's ancient gift—a shard of the Scepter's legendary Jewelry—was immense, yet frustratingly finite.