My father is sitting up when I walk in and that is the first thing I look for. Sitting, not lying down. Eyes open, watching the door.I ran the whole corridor. My breath is still uneven when I step inside.The physician passes me on his way out with a small nod that tells me nothing I want to hear and nothing that breaks me either. The attendants file after him. My father says "Out" with the voice he reserves for when he is still a king even when being a king costs him something, and the room empties.Just us."You ran," he says."The whole corridor," I say. I sit across from him and I look at his face and I try not to let him see what looking at his face does to me. The thinness. The effort underneath the straight back. He is holding himself upright right now by deciding to, and it shows, and I love him so much it is hard to be in the room."It was a spell," he says. "They pass. I have had them before.""How often.""Aelara.""How often are the spells."My father holds my eyes. "Ofte
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