Her Graceful War Song by Summer's Blaze

Chapter 240

Carissa pulled the child from Rafael's arms and held him tightly to her chest.

It was heartbreaking to see that the boy was nothing but skin and bones. A foul odor emanated from him-a mixture of decay, filth, and possibly old blood. His hair clung in matted clumps, adding to the overall stench.

Yet, Carissa embraced him as if he were the most precious treasure in the world, her tears streaming down her face uncontrollably.

The child, now in her arms, ceased his struggles. He lay still, like a broken doll, his tears streaking through the grime on his face, creating yellowish trails. Gone was the fierce resistance he had shown Rafael. Now, the boy seemed lifeless, his eyes staring blankly despite the tears.

Seeing this, Rafael's long-held anxiety eased as he confirmed that the child was indeed of the Sinclair bloodline. It was a relief to know that a trace of the Sinclair family remained, though Rafael was puzzled about how Ryan had ended up in the hands of traffickers after escaping.

During the time he had been with Ryan, Rafael had tried in vain to glean any information from him. The child had been rendered mute by poison and was highly agitated, reacting violently to anyone who came near him. Initially, Ryan had responded when Rafael called his name, but as time went on, he seemed to lose recognition and remained either unresponsive or frenzied.

Guild investigation had yielded no clues about the child's

gently released Ryan, who clung desperately to her wrist. His long, dark nails dug into her skin, almost drawing blood. His gaze never left Carissa's face. When he saw the slingshot, his tears flowed even more freely. His lips trembled as he tried to speak, but all that

her trembling hands gently touched the small wounds on

servants here? Have someone prepare hot water for him to bathe." "The

for a while," the prince replied, his voice strained and eyes

to cling to Carissa's hand. She carried the boy into the room, sat down in a chair,

own tears flowing freely, she spoke softly, "Ryan, it's Aunt Carissa. I'm here, don't be afraid.

so hard he struggled to catch his breath. His tears seemed endless, turning his face even more smeared. It was as if all his suffering and grievances

he cried himself into unconsciousness, collapsing in

had already arranged for a physician to be on standby. The physician had initially tried to examine Ryan, but the child was uncooperative. After he was forcefully held down, they

administered some acupuncture treatment, Ryan did not wake but began to snore softly. The exhausted boy had been sleeping fitfully, and was now finally in a deep sleep. Even

that Ryan was only sleeping, which