In the infirmary, the atmosphere was far gentler.
Mira woke to the soft light of the morning, the scent of antiseptic herbs lingering in the air. Her body still ached with the memory of the Ravencrests' cruelty, but the terror had begun to recede.
Ryse was there. He was always there. He was currently occupied with a tray of breakfast, his movements surprisingly delicate for a man who spent his days breaking bones.
"Is Lady Eris preparing?" Mira asked, her voice a raspy whisper as she tried to sit up.
Ryse reached out, his hand steadying her shoulder with a firm but careful grip. "She is. The noblewomen have her in their clutches. You'll see her later, once the formal nonsense is over."
Mira offered a small, tired smile. She thought of Eris, the woman who had hunted through the dark of Nevareth to find a lowly maid. "She must be beautiful today."
