TWENTY THREE

DIMITRI'S POV

Before my Dad passed from his disease at thirty-five, he had brought me to this very room at fifteen.

The man was on his sick bed encroaching death faster than I could find a witch or a healer that could concoct something to help him get better.

My old man and I were not close. Hell, we were more like strangers but I did not want the man to die. I knew what his death meant. The giant photos in the hallways told me enough. With each photo, the successor of the Galdina throne got younger. Which wasn't a good thing. There were no assassinations or poisonings. Just this accursed disease rotting us from the inside out.

The conversation we had in this room was fresh.

"You shouldn't show our enemies your Achilles heel." He told me.

"I'm looking for a cure for you!" I had practically screamed at him. "Do you not want to get cured?"

"Of course, I want to get healed. I was just as mad as you when I was searching for answers. Like you, I put the name our family had in jeopardy