The days that followed were a blur of forced convalescence.
Fiadh, armed with the medic's strict instructions, became a tireless warden of Rache's well-being. Every attempt to rise from the bed was met with a stern look and a firm but gentle reminder that "His Highness would be most displeased" if she were to overexert herself.
It was a frustrating, gilded cage.
The burn on her neck healed, the raw, angry skin slowly fading to a pale, silvery scar that stood out against her own pale flesh. The bandage was removed, but the mark remained, a constant, visible reminder of the danger she was in.
Fiadh tutted and fretted about anyone leaving a mark on the princess that would be visible. Of course, it made her look even more weak. And by extension, it would make Donncahd look weak too, unless he found a way to twist it into a show of strength.
But she had little feeling about it.
After all, she was ....
