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They hauled him through the palace doors.
He was unconscious and limp in the arms of Captain Trevanion and Perri the Savage.
His tunic was torn and stained with blood that seeped through a make shift bandage around his torso.
Palace guards abandoned their posts in favour of rushing forward to help the new arrivals. One of the maids fled past them to send word for a healer, while the other two that were at the scene, rushed to fetch some towels and water.
The entrance way of the royal palace was in complete disarray. There were panicked exclamations and barked out orders.
It was a blur of movement with only Isaboe who remained frozen to where she stood, unable to do anything but simply watch as they dragged away her bleeding husband.
Finnikin and his small guard had been ambushed while leaving Sarnak after a meeting with the King.
They had almost been to the border when they were set upon by a band of at least four armed men. While Finnkin, Trevanion and Perri had fought with greater skill than any of those men, they had still been outnumbered and before fleeing, one of them had managed to stick their sword into Finnikin's side.
Now here he lay; weak and unmoving upon the bed with Isaboe sitting by his side.
The healers had cleaned and bound Finnikin's wound. However it still remained that the wound was severe and coupled with the fact that he had bled quite a bit before they had brought him to the palace, left him in a very delicate state.
Reluctantly, the healers had even warned Isaboe that he may not make it through the night.
The last time Isaboe had felt such crushing grief, she had been told that the babe she had just given birth to had not made it.
But now, as she sat clutching Finnikin's cold hand in hers' and staring at his much too pale face, Isaboe was loath to think that even that could not compare to what she was feeling now.
She had loved this man since she was just a small child. As a girl she would dream about how one day she would wed her brother's friend, Finnikin of the Rock and they would have many children together and live happily ever after just like in her story books.
After the five days of the unspeakable, when she had been forced to flee her home after her family had been viciously slain, she would find herself thinking about the boy with berry coloured hair. She would think of his laugh and his smile, when everything would become too much for her to bear. When she had met him again years later as the silent novice, Evanjalin, her joy at seeing him once more had almost been too hard to contain and she had very nearly broken her vow of silence in favour of crying out his name, leaping into his arms and revealing to him who she really was and everything that she had been through.
Isaboe loved this man, her King. She loved him fiercely and with every ounce of her being and to think that he could be taken away from her in mere seconds if fate wished to, was just ...unfathomable.
Isaboe could not think of living without waking up each morning in the warmth of his embrace. Without being able to see him smile those rare and breathtaking smiles. Without being able to feel him inside of her. Or hearing the sound of his voice, whispering her name in a way that left her breathless and trembling all over.
Not being able to live out the rest of her life with him by her side ... It was just too cruel to imagine.
After Finnikin had finished being tended to, Isaboe had locked herself in the room alone with her husband, refusing to leave his side for any reason. Her cousin, Lucian and his wife had come by to see Finnikin, but she had refused to see them or grant them entry into the room. She had even done the same to Sir Topher, Tesadora and even Trevanion. Isaboe could not even bring herself to get up and tend to her distressed daughter, who was demanding to see her mother and father.
Whether it was out of fear that he would slip away from her the moment she left his side or the belief that staying with him would somehow ensure his survival, Isaboe did not know. All she knew was that she could not bring herself to leave Finnikin.
Isaboe lifted Finnikin's hand and pressed her trembling lips to the back of it.
"You promised me you would live for me ... My love." She whispered. "Remember your promise for I cannot bear to face a single day without you..."
It was near sundown by the time, Isaboe was startled out of her seat by the sound of the door being broken down.
She cast a furious look at the one responsible.
"What is the meaning of this Captain Trevanion!?"
The captain straightened himself, trying to at least appear presentable before the Queen after breaking down her door.
"Forgive me, your highness." He said gruffly as he walked over the threshold. "But as you would have only refused me entry had I come knocking, this was the only way."
Isaboe's glare intensified. "That does not give you reason to go about breaking people's doors down, Captain. If I choose not to grant you access into this room while my husband lays, quite possibly, dying! Then so be it."
The expression on Trevanion's face turned thunderous. "He is my son, Isaboe!"
Isaboe froze. She had not expected the older man to take such a tone with her and she had certainly not expected to see his eyes bright with unshed tears.
"He is not just your husband." Trevanion continued, voice breaking. "He is also my son... And if he is dying, then you have no right to keep me from him! I do not care if you are the Queen, I will not let you stand between me and my son when this night could be his last."
The tears were rolling down Trevanion's handsome, bronzed face by now and Isaboe felt the gut wrenching guilt wash over her.
She may be the Queen of Lumatere, she may be the most powerful woman in the kingdom... but she still had no right to stand between a father and his son. She had been so caught up in her grief that she hadn't stopped to think that she wasn't the only one who cared for Finnikin. It would be selfish of her to keep those who did from him if these were indeed his final moments.
Her shoulders slumped and she bowed her head as she let out a weary sigh. "Forgive me, Trevanion." She said. "I just ... I do not..."
Trevanion was there as her voice started break. His strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her into a firm embrace.
"I know your pain, Isaboe." Trevanion said as he stroked her hair. "I was there... It was my duty to protect him, not just as his guard, but as his father... And I failed."
Isaboe could feel the tremble of his larger frame against hers. Although she had witnessed Trevanion's moments of weakness before, however rare they may be, it was still hard to see. Trevanion of the River had always been one of the most formidable men in Lumatere. He was strong and brave and more times than not, he seemed unbreakable.
To see him as he was now, made Isaboe's heart ache and that ache was made all the worse for, as Trevanion had said himself, she knew what pain he felt.
Caged, in her father-in-law's protective embrace, Isaboe allowed her anguish to overcome her once more as the tears fell unhindered from her eyes and sobs wracked her body.
Isaboe and Trevanion had spent near an hour alone with Finnikin, simply watching his laboured breathing, before others joined them.
When Jasmina was brought in by one of the nursemaids, Isaboe made sure to put on a brave face, as well as the other occupants of the room, which included, Lady Beatriss, her daughter Vestie, as well as Trevanion, Sir Topher, Lucian and their Yata.
Oh, she was certain her heart was going to break into pieces as her daughter asked what was wrong with her Fa.
"Fa has been hurt." Isaboe explained in the steadiest voice she could muster. "He is resting now."
There was no possible way that Isaboe could tell a child as young as her daughter, that her father may be mere inches from death.
She could not bear the thought of even attempting to. So for the moment, she simply settled for telling Jasmina that he only needed to sleep for a while.
Afterwards, Isaboe reluctantly allowed herself to be led away, by Tesadora and her Yata to be bathed.
It was a silent affair, while Isaboe sat in the warm water of the bath, her Yata combed her hair and Tesadora scrubbed at her skin. No one spoke a word, but the presence of two of the most important women in her life, was enough of a comfort for Isaboe.
Once she was dried and dressed, returned to Finnikin's bedside, where Trevanion, Beatriss and a sleeping Vestie were just leaving to retire for the night. They would stay in the palace tonight, in the room that was for Trevanion when he chose to spend the nights.
Moss stood guard outside the makeshift door that had been placed there to offer some privacy, while once again, Isaboe was left alone with her still unconscious husband.
She watched his chest rise and fall from underneath the blanket and listened to the pained gasps and grunts he emitted every now and again.
It wasn't much longer before Isaboe found herself unable to keep her head up any longer and settled for resting her head on top of her folded arms, which were crossed on Finnikin's bed. She closed her eyes and as she did, she prayed to both the goddesses Lagrami and Sagrami. The young Queen of Lumatere prayed for the goddesses' to bestow mercy upon them. To allow her husband to live and stay by her side.
Isaboe also prayed to her family. To her mother and father. Her sisters and her brother.
'I am not ready to let go of him ... Please, please do not take him away from me.'
With her prayers spoken, Isaboe drifted into a dreamless sleep.
When Isaboe next awoke, it was to the feeling of gentle fingers, running through the strands of her hair.
For a brief moment, she basked in the tender touch and sighed in contentment.
The sound of a soft chuckle reached her ears.
Isaboe's body went still.
All the events of the previous day came rushing back to her and as they did, Isaboe raised her head from the cradle of her arms and her eyes met Finnikin's tired ones.
There was a moment of stunned silence between the married couple but before long, Finnikin's lips twitched up into a tired smile. "Good morning, my Queen."
Tears welled up in Isaboe's eyes and trailed down her face before she could do anything to stop them.
"Finnikin..." She said breathlessly as she grasped his hand from where it lay on the bed near her own. "Oh... Finnikin!"
Isaboe then proceeded to pressed kisses to the back of her husband's pale palm before she practically jumped out of the wooden chair to wrap her arms around his neck and place kisses all along his cheek and jaw.
Finnikin let out husky breath of laughter at his wife's antics and Isaboe felt her heart thrum at the sound of it.
"Oh Finnikin, you scared me to death!" She cried.
"Forgive me, my Queen ... It was not my intention."
Isaboe sniffled and raised herself up so that she could look directly into Finnikin's face. He was still incredibly pale. His eyes were only half open and there were dark rings marring the skin underneath them.
"You have no need to beg for forgiveness, my love." Isaboe said as she tenderly stroked the man's cheek. "The one's who did this to you, on the other hand..."
Finnikin offered her another tired smile. "Let's not worry about that for now."
"Of course." Isaboe nodded and then her eyes widened. "Are you alright? You're not...?" She couldn't bring herself to finish the rest of her question.
However, it appeared that she did not need to as Finnikin seemed to understand perfectly well what she had been trying to ask.
"I am fine." He reassured her. "My wound will heal and I will soon be on the mend."
Isaboe allowed those words to sink in and for the first time since yesterday morning, a smile graced her lips.
"Oh... Oh thank..." Words were lost upon Isaboe so instead she settled for carefully climbing up onto the bed and laying beside her husband, burying her face into the crook of his neck and breathing a great sigh of relief.
Finnikin was alright. He was going to be alright. She wasn't going to lose him. Isaboe sent a silent prayer of thanks to the two goddesses as well as to her family for hearing her prayers.
"Now," Finnikin said. "What is this I hear about my wife the Queen, shirking her royal duties to weep at my bedside for a whole day?"
Isaboe looked at her husband, astonished. "How did you...?"
Finnikin smiled down at her tenderly. "You can sleep like the dead, my dear at times. Before you awoke, I was visited by my father, Beatriss and one of the healers. They told me that you had locked the door and refused entry to all those who came by and that my father had to go as far as to break the door down."
Isaboe had the decency to blush, but she quickly covered it up with a mask of feigned defensiveness.
"I was distraught." She sniffed haughtily. "What would you have done in my place?"
"I do not even wish to think of it." Finnikin sighed, with a pained expression.
Isaboe propped herself up onto her elbow so that her face was above Finnikin's. "Aren't you fortunate. I on the other hand, was forced to think about it. I had to imagine a life without you and that is something that I never wish to do ever again."
Finnikin searched her face, before bringing his hand to cup the back of her neck and pull her down for a kiss. She went willingly and allowed their lips to meet. The kiss was slow and gentle. Nothing but the simple press of lips against one another. A form of reassurance on Finnikin's part and it was one that Isaboe readily accepted.
Their lips lingered against each other for a while longer before drawing away. Finnikin kept his hand pressed against the side of Isaboe's face, his thumb brushing against her soft skin.
"Do you remember, on that night that I asked to be your king, the promise you made me make?" He whispered.
"That you would live for me?"
Finnikin nodded. "That is a promise I take very seriously and intend to keep."
Isaboe bit at her lip as she gazed down at the face of the man that she loved. Haggard and weary that he looked, he was still the most handsome man in all the land to her. As tears began to replenish in her eyes, Isaboe leaned in a pressed a loving kiss to his forehead before settling back into her previous position of her face pressed against the pale column of his neck, her arm draped over his chest and one of his wrapping around her body and holding her close to his.
And there lay. A Queen and her king, locked in a tender and intimate embrace that not even all of Skuldenore could tear apart.