Carlos tried to rise from his chair, bracing one hand against the bedpost, but the moment he shifted his weight a sharp pain tore through his arm.
"Ish—" he hissed, breath catching.
Amelia moved instantly. She stepped forward, placing a steady hand on his shoulder and another at his back, guiding him carefully until he was seated on the edge of the bed once more. The mattress creaked softly beneath him, the scent of dried herbs and old linen lingering in the air.
"Sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Carlos waved the apology away with his good hand. "It's not your fault," he said. "Honestly, I'm more surprised than anything by all that has happened." He studied her face closely. "But what about you? Are you well?"
Amelia hesitated.
"I heard what happened to your father," Carlos continued, his tone gentle. "I'm truly sorry. Even if our families were never on good terms… I always knew he was a good man. A man who cared for his family above all else."
