Kaelith huffed, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts, every breath scraping his lungs like fire. His fists trembled at his sides, and when his eyes finally darted down, he froze.
His own hands, still curled from the blow he had just delivered looked alien to him, monstrous even.
Shock widened his gaze as realization crashed over him like cold water. He had actually struck Zevryn. His king. His brother-in-arms. The very man he had sworn his life to protect.
Even if it had been to wrench Zevryn out of that vicious, self-destructive trance, the weight of the act pressed heavily against his chest.
No one laid hands on the king, not even in desperation. His throat closed up, guilt choking him as the enormity of what he had done sank deeper.
Zevryn had already sat on a chair till now and the sight of him slumped in the chair, crimson eyes dulled yet finally steady, twisted Kaelith's insides with both relief and shame.
