Larissa's Game of Thrones (Larissa) novel Chapter 43

“There, that’s more like it. Keep cursing me like that, and you won’t pass out again.” Satisfied, Larissa picked up the knife and resumed her work.

“Aaargh!” Finley screamed again, his face a ghastly white.

But this time, he remained conscious.

“Alright, that should do it,” Larissa said, satisfied. “I only did your right leg. You should be thankful you used your right foot to crush both of my herbs. If you’d used both feet, you’d be losing both legs today.”

She tossed the knife aside, fed him an antidote that would restore his mobility, and stood up to admire her handiwork. “Go on, get up and walk. Can you still use your right leg?”

Finley realized he could move again. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he pushed himself to his feet. His right leg was a dead weight, consumed by agony and completely unresponsive.

His heart turned to ice. His right leg was truly useless.

How had it come to this? He was supposed to be the one teaching his so-called sister a lesson, avenging Honora. How did he end up the one with a crippled leg?

No! He couldn’t accept it.

In that moment, the proud Finley’s ego shattered completely. He clutched his head and let out a broken sob.

“No… I don’t want to be a cripple…”

“How dull,” Larissa muttered, rolling her eyes at his breakdown.

She thought he was made of tougher stuff. All she’d done was sever the tendons in his right leg, and he was already falling apart? He had no idea what she had endured over the past twenty years, the life-and-death situations she’d faced. He was just a fragile flower, raised in a greenhouse, easily broken.

Larissa was about to leave when a round of applause echoed from behind her.

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