She had already turned to leave when Damien, with surprising strength for someone on the verge of collapsing, reached out and grabbed her hand. The sudden movement triggered another flare of pain, and he winced so hard his eyes watered.
"You cannot," he said through gritted teeth, his grip tight on her wrist.
"Damien…" she breathed.
"No one can know," he said.
"Does that mean this has been happening frequently?"
"That's not what I mean," he muttered. "Just… an ill prince stirs a lot of drama I don't have time for."
Luna's shoulders dropped. She understood politics more than she cared to admit. But that didn't stop the frustration from rising in her chest. "You stubborn, overdramatic idiot," she muttered, taking his arm gently.
He didn't resist as she helped him, guiding him. He leaned against her, his body heavy but trusting.
"You're too proud for your own good," she added, grunting under his weight as she got him to the edge of the bed.
