Everard’s heart sank the moment his eyes fell on his father.
The King looked awfully weaker than yesterday. His eyes were swelling, he was breathing laboriously, and the night robe that he was wearing looked wet due to excessive sweating.
“Why haven’t you changed his clothes yet?” Everard glared at the nurses and scolded them.
He went and stood by his father’s side. He gently held his father’s palm; the temperature was way too cold for a werewolf.
He glared back at the nurses, who were now rushing towards a drawer, and then chastised them some more, “He is already suffering from cold, and yet, you two keep him in his wet clothes instead of keeping him warm?”
“Don’t scold them too hard, Everard.” Alfred slightly tightened his grip on Everard’s palm and spoke while taking the nurses' side, “I was asleep until I heard you at the door. Maybe they didn’t want to disturb my sleep, that’s why they didn’t wake me up to change my clothes.”
