Shaking off the wave of horror that had engulfed her, Esme made a silent decision. Lifting her small hand, she hesitated for a moment before pressing her palm gently against his ravaged skin.
Donovan, who was suspicious of her unexpected silence, flinched when he felt her palm against the peppering wound on his back. When Esme closed her eyes, she summoned her energy, allowing it to flow from her body. Her hair glimmered with a soft bluish light, partially illuminating the area as the healing energy surged through Donovan.
His muscles tensed in alarm when he felt that same connection, and he tried to recoil from her touch.
"Esme, stop!" he protested sharply, his voice edged with panic after sensing her deteriorating health. The more energy she passed onto him, the more it weakened her. "Wait— just a moment."
Even at his protest, Esme did not falter, "You’re like this because of me," she said, her eyes remaining closed as the energy poured into him. "The least I can do is ease your pain in return."
"But you’re unwell! If you continue like this— PLEASE STOP!" His voice was filled with worry, but it was his tone that struck her like a blow. She flinched, pulling her hand back from his shoulder, as if she’d been burned.
The wounds on Donovan’s back had scabbed over, no longer raw but still far from fully healed. Yet the pain etched on his face had little to do with his injuries. His emotions swirled like a tempest that he failed to contain, and she had become the easiest target.
"I TOLD YOU STOP, DIDN’T I?" his voice thundered, cutting through the tense silence. "Stop hovering around me all the time! I am not your friend, Esme. I am a prisoner here! Do you understand? A prisoner! And I want nothing to do with you after today!"
His words came out like a barrage, unrelenting. "Do you think I’m in this condition by chance? No! It’s because of you! So don’t come back. Ever. Just leave me alone!"
Esme opened her mouth, her trembling voice barely audible. "I...I was only trying to—"
"Go!" he roared, the finality in his tone like a slammed door. "Now! I don’t want to be in the same space with you, speak to you, or have you come looking for me. People like me shouldn’t be seen with someone like you!"
When his anger finally subsided, silence crept back into the courtyard, broken by his ragged breathing.
Esme stood frozen, her heart aching as his words echoed in her mind. Did he truly mean it? She couldn’t tell. But whether intentional or not, his rejection cut deep.
"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. Lowering her gaze to the floor, she took a step back. "I won’t bother you again. I’m sorry... for everything."
The crack in her voice made it clear she was close to tears, and before Donovan could say anything, the sound of her hurried footsteps fading into the distance silenced him. A fleeting trace of regret flickered across his face, and his head hung low each time the breakage of her voice replayed in his head.
’It was for the best’ he tried to convince himself. No matter how much it stung him to have reacted the way he did to her, he knew cutting her out of his life before it was too late was the only way to protect her from himself... from the shadows of his own torment. She wasn’t the bad friend in this case, he was.
"I’m sorry too," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of what he couldn’t say while she was still within reach. "Deeply sorry."
From that day forward, Esme kept her word and never returned to him.
One day stretched into weeks, and though Donovan tried to keep his thoughts from straying to her, it was a battle he often lost. He liked to imagine her happy, living a peaceful life with her new family, and away from his own misery. Perhaps she had already moved on, her memories of him dissolving into the past. But the mere idea of being forgotten gnawed at him, no matter how much he told himself it was for the best.
During a rare break from his labor, Donovan leaned against a column near the archway. This had always been her favorite path to take. He could still imagine the sound of her skipping lightly on her own, the sound of her laughter echoing under the same dead tree that made her nervous, but she never left, or told him he was being weird. After her absence, there was only silence, a void that seemed to stretch across the palace.
Nearly a month passed, and there was no sign of her. The emptiness weighed heavier than he’d ever imagined it would. If only he could find someone who’d confirm how she was doing for him. If he knew she was fairing well, he wouldn’t be this bothered or worried either.
As Donovan prepared to resume work, the hushed voices of two maidens passing by with their baskets made him remain hidden in his spot.
"Did you hear about the tragedy involving Alpha Damon’s only daughter? This incident chose to happen when it’s only a few days to the war approaching."
The other maiden frowned, clearly puzzled. "Tragedy? But Alpha Damon just married Lady Percy about a month ago, and I heard it was a peaceful celebration. What misfortune could you mean now?"
Lowering her voice further, the first maiden leaned in, her expression grim. "His daughter has been unconscious for a week now... and no one knows if she’ll ever wake up. I served His Majesty and overheard the conversation."
Donovan’s face paled rapidly at the information he just received. His skin turned cold as though the warmth within him had been drained completely.
"His Majesty is very worried," the maid continued. "He requests that Alpha Damon should bring his daughter over so she can get special treatment in the palace. But at this rate, she might not make it."