Eight years. I had one of my worst days. I refused to leave Jugs’ side. I told Seis to cancel my council meeting with just minutes to spare. I cried, and cried, telling Jugs how much I missed him, begging him to give me any sign that he could hear me—anything. A flicker of his eyes under his closed lids. A twitch of his fingers under the sheets. He remained as still as ever.
