Darius sat at the edge of the bed. One of his hands was gently threading through Xion's sweat-dampened hair while his other was clutching Xion's limp hand.
The handkerchief he had used to wipe the blood was casually thrown onto the ground. Allen had tried to heal the injury, but the Archduke had reverted back to his state of not allowing anyone to touch him.
He'd done a rudimentary healing spell to stop the bleeding only enough to keep Xion clean from the crimson stains.
Darius didn't care beyond that anymore.
His fingers moved in slow, rhythmic strokes, almost reverently. The kind of care someone would use when touching the sacred relics.
"You're burning up again," he murmured, more to himself than to the sleeping young man.
After crying himself out, he tiredly closed his eyes again. Darius was so scared that Xion might fall into a coma again.
In an instant, Alchemist was summoned to the bed chambers.
Even after examining, Allen still hadn't found the source of the problem.
