"I have no idea. That is something for you to figure out." Damon bluntly answered.
The emperor looked at his daughter, then back at Damon. His hands trembled as he slowly knelt beside the bed, resting his forehead against Alzara's unmoving hand.
"…She was never meant for a fragile fate," he whispered. "My daughter was born to rule this great desert. She shouldn't be lying here like this. She was meant to command storms and sand, to rule this great desert with her head held high."
He lowered his forehead to her hand, and the man's entire body trembled. Damon couldn't see it, but he was pretty sure the emperor was actually crying.
For a long moment, the room was filled only with the faint sound of Alzara's shallow breathing and the distant whisper of desert winds against the pavilion dome. Damon watched in silence and then finally decided to interrupt the delicate moment.
