“You can’t go to the mortal world,” the physician said for the fifth time that morning. It was almost 7:00 on Monday morning and Sebastian was standing defiantly in the middle of his chambers, gripping the back of a nearby chair to hold himself up. “You’re not well enough yet, my lord. It’s only been a day.”
“I’m fine!” Sebastian persisted, though the pained glint in his pale green eyes said otherwise. “Please, let me go. This mission cannot wait any longer than it already has.”
“Stubborn as a pack-mule,” the physician muttered under his breath. “Just like his father.”
The chamber door swung open, allowing Fynn to walk inside. The King quickly followed him, ducking as he came in through the low doorway. Sebastian looked away from his father, unable to look at him without feeling horribly sick to the stomach. Obviously, his father didn’t feel the same way, however, because Sebastian could feel his father’s eyes watching him.
The physician bowed clumsily to their father before saying, “What do you think, my King? Is he well enough to leave his chambers or not?”
A moment of silence passed and Sebastian could feel now that everyone was staring at him. The silence was broken when his father uttered the words, “Let him go.”