The next morning, Cyrus jolted awake, his head pounding as if a hammer was striking his skull. Sweat clung to his skin, making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his back. He hissed under his breath, pushing himself up on the bed, wincing at the sharp pain throbbing behind his eyes. His gaze darted towards Camilla but she was still sound asleep.

He reached for his phone and called Carter to have his tea prepared, while he fumbled for his medicine in the drawer.

The noise seemed to get out loud, causing Camilla to stir in her sleep, her brows knitting. “Hey… I'm trying to get some sleep, you should sleep...