Page 97 of The Throne's Undoing

She exhaled and counted to four.

Then, she repeated the process.

As she exhaled and her heart rate began to settle, a rattling at the door sounded, jolting her. Her heart thundered in her chest, the panic quickly returning as if it had never left.

She pressed her back against the wall, her nails scratching her palms as she curled her fingers inwards.

The door creaked open, and a guard stepped forward, balancing a tray in his hand. Myra's shoulders dropped, and she quietly sighed in relief.

It's only dinner.

The guard set the food down in front of her. As Myra reached for the porridge and took a small bite, her stomach turned when the door clicked shut and the guard remained inside the cell.

With the bland porridge thick in her throat, she cautiously peered at the guard. The man, however, continued to stare ahead at the back wall of the cell, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides.

Although Myra had not fully recuperated yet, she reached out to his mind, to the emotions at the surface. Fear, concern, and hesitancy tainted her tongue.

"Is there--" Myra swallowed as the guard turned his attention to her.

Although armor covered his form and prevented Myra from identifying him, there was something familiar about the guard and his presence all the same.

She forced out, "Is there something I can help you with, sir?"

"That depends," the guard said. "Why do you not eat?" he asked, pointing to the bowl in her lap.

Myra blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You have only taken one bite. Are you not hungry?" Concern dripped from the man's words, yet Myra could not understand it. The guards never cared about her well-being, not more than the king made them, anyway.

"I--I do not have an appetite," Myra admitted.

The man nodded. Shifting on his feet, he glanced at the door, his armor creaking.

Then, he did something that surprised her even more: he squatted in front of her. And although Myra could not see his pupils beneath the shadows of the helmet, she could feel his stare boring into her, as if he were searching for something.

She pressed her back further against the wall, sweat beading on her neck. "Why are you here?" she whispered.

His breathing was heavy, and a dense apprehension spilled around him. After a moment, he shook his head. "I shouldn't have come," he muttered to himself.

He pressed his palms against his knees to stand, but something overtook Myra, and she reached for him. He halted, staring down at her small fingers wrapped around his wrist. She didn't know what stupidity had made her do it, but something in his emotions twirled in the space between them that had her reaching out.

The man slowly sunk back down onto his heels. He grabbed the collar of his armor and scratched at his neck beneath the metal, revealing skin rubbed raw.

He muttered a curse under his breath, then removed his helmet entirely.

Myra gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief before she could catch herself.

The captain of Rian's guard stared back at her. The whites surrounding his dark brown eyes were stained red, and the golden-brown skin beneath his eyes was tinted purple.

"Shit. I really shouldn't have--"

Laurince tried to stand again, but Myra only tightened her grasp around his wrist.

"Wait, please," Myra said, the words nearly a plea.

Laurince observed her for a moment. But then he must have seen something within her face, for he sank back down. Still, he remained silent, staring, pondering, hesitating.

Myra might not have known Laurince well, but she knew he cared deeply for his king. If he was wearing an Ardentolian uniform, perhaps there was a reason for him being here other than delivering her food.

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