CHAPTER 68
It appeared Grace had drifted into deep sleep while still trying to figure out what to do with her life. A loud crash jolted her awake, a shattering sound that echoed through the hall.
She stood up hastily, heart thudding. "That was loud. Who could that be?" she exclaimed, rushing out of the chamber.
Down the hallway stood Parkston, frozen beside the shattered remains of a flower vase. Red rose petals lay scattered across the marble floor, and blood trickled down his bandaged arm.
"Parkston!" Grace called, her voice laced with concern as she hurried toward him. "What happened here?"
"Your Highness," he responded slowly, with his head tilted down.
Grace's brows furrowed as she noticed the blood seeping through the old bandage. "You're hurt," she murmured, gently taking his arm in her hands, careful not to worsen the injury.
