The tension in the room was palpable as you continued your preparations, papers scattered in front of you, the weight of the coming war settling heavily on your shoulders. You could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the late hours and the constant stress taking their toll on you. But you couldn’t stop. There was too much to do.

Mysaria, ever observant, had been watching you from the side, her eyes soft with concern. When she finally spoke, it was with a quiet but gentle voice, almost teasing in its softness, “Your cheeks are completely red.”

You didn’t even notice her approach until she was close, her fingers lightly brushing your face. She pressed her palm against your skin, her touch cool compared to the heat radiating off of you. “You are burning up, my lady.” Her expression was a mixture of worry and affection, her eyes softening as she studied you.

With a soft sigh, she placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you gently away from the desk. “You’ve done enough for tonight. There will be more time for this when you’re well. Come, let me take care of you.” She tried to pull you toward the bed, her voice firm but kind, “Rest now. Please. You’re no good to anyone if you’re ill.”

Despite her insistence, there was a tenderness in her touch, the same tenderness you had come to know in her when she was concerned, her quiet affection seeping through her every action.