“...must have been too much for him.” The gruff voice swam through Scott’s mind, cutting through the inky darkness that enveloped him. Had he been in his right mind, perhaps he would have feigned sleep. However, a groan escaped his lips as unconsciousness left him and he became aware of the sharp throb on the left side of his head. The voice fell silent, and he felt eyes on him. Scott’s brain sluggishly tried to recollect the events leading up to this. He was drawing up short, his thoughts not coming as quickly as they should have. He cracked his green orbs open, recoiling at the harsh light above him. The room smelled of antiseptic, and he knew he was in the infirmary. Sitting up slowly, dazed and confused as he bit back the nausea that tried to force its way up his throat.

He took in the two men before him. Colin was standing by the door, watching Scott carefully. He was likely here under the pretense of being his head guard. James Mitchell, one of his few Alphan advisors, sat in a chair to his right. He wondered why him of all the council members were here. It wasn’t like he and James got along too well. He had just opened his mouth to ask his questions when his thoughts finally caught up and the events of the night crashed over him like a wave. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fight the nausea this time, and he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bin that had been placed at his bedside. Once there was nothing left, he dry heaved for a time, the attacks racking him as his body tried to expel food that wasn’t there. It seemed like every time he calmed down, images of Abigail’s blood splattered against the wall plagued him and he was heaving into the trash can again.

The vicious cycle finally came to a stop around fifteen agonizing minutes later. Colin was no longer in the room; James had sent him to fetch the doctor. Scott finally looked up at him, and the Alpha was watching him with some cruel amusement in his nearly black eyes. “How are you feeling?”

He shot James a glare. “Why are you here, Mitchell?”

“To make sure my dear King is all right, of course. I am loyal to the crown, you know.” A small, humorless chuckle passed his lips, “You hit your pretty little head rather hard. It’d be a shame if our only monarch suffered from brain damage.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’d lose any sleep over it if that were the case.”

“I’m losing sleep right now, it’s nearly three in the morning.”

“I don’t have brain damage.” Scott snapped.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right. That hardly makes up for the fact you are a weak ruler however.” Just then Colin, returned to the room with the Palace’s head doctor, so their discussion was cut short.

After some tests, he was cleared without even having a concussion. Dr. Evans said it was likely that he passed out due to shock and exhaustion, and that he should spend as much time as possible resting up in the next few days. He knew that the advice would be all but ignored. His home had been directly attacked for the first time in decades and one of the Suitors under his protection had been murdered because of it. There would hardly be any time to sleep in the upcoming days, what with dealing with the aftermath of this tragedy. He would have to console a grieving family, somehow ensure the safety of the Suitors who’d be home sent soon, address his entire kingdom that this issue would be dealt with the utmost urgency, and dig up anything on the offenders they knew nothing of.

The three left the infirmary. Scott trudged alongside James, with Colin trailing in the back. James filled him in on what had happened while he was unconscious. There wasn’t any damage on any of the higher floors, so once the building was secure, they sent the Suitors to their rooms for the night. Many of them voiced concerns about safety and such. Apparently, a couple of them seemed highly concerned about Scott himself, most of them having seen him pass out. It made Scott feel better that at least a few people cared about him. Abigail’s family had been informed of their daughter’s passing were rightly distraught. Her body would be sent home in the morning, so that they could have a proper funeral.

James left Scott at his room, telling him that the council would meet at noon tomorrow and to get some rest. Like that was going to happen. Scott watched as he walked away, waiting for his footsteps to fade before turning to enter his room.

“Its your fault, you know.” Colin’s gruff voice rang out just as his hand touched his doorknob. It was dripping with malice. “That girl is dead because of you.”

Scott squeezed his eyes shut, his throat tightening painfully. Rather than dignifying the statement with a response, he opened the door and stepped in, locking the door behind him. He didn’t understand why Colin had felt the need to say that. He quickly wiped away the hot, angry tears that had spilled onto his cheeks and stripped down into his underwear before crawling into bed.

He closed his eyes and drifted off almost immediately drifted off into a peaceful dreamless sleep. No doubt he wouldn’t sleep like this again in a long time.