Kaelen's POV
The infirmary was cramped with too many bodies crowding the small space.
My mother perched on the edge of a medical cot, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She was putting on a show of composure, but I caught the way her fingers trembled. Her shoulders held themselves too stiffly. The color had drained from her face since this morning.
Lyra positioned herself next to my mother, one hand placed gently on her shoulder.
Celeste bustled between them with practiced efficiency. She took my mother's pulse, then pressed her palm against her forehead to check for fever.
"How are you feeling?" Celeste asked.
"Fine," my mother replied.
Her voice sounded controlled, but I had spent my entire life learning to read her tells. The lie rang hollow beneath her words.
Celeste's frown deepened.
"You need rest. The white moss is propping you up now, but that effect will fade. Your body has to recover from what you subjected it to."
"I understand."
