The morning light pressed relentlessly against my eyelids, bright and unforgiving.
I scrunched my eyes tighter and buried my face deeper into the pillow, seeking refuge from the sun. My body felt heavy, reluctant to move. Even the simple act of waking required more strength than I currently possessed.
A groan escaped me as I shifted beneath the blankets.
A dull ache settled low in my body, impossible to ignore now that my sleepiness was retreating. The sensation alone was enough to bring everything rushing back.
Memories followed, fragments of the night before. Each one sharper than the last, causing my stomach to irrevocably twist.
I squeezed my eyes back shut, as though I could shut the memories away, tuck it somewhere in the darkest, deepest pit of my brain.
The wind drifted through the open windows, carrying the scent of damp earth and spring grass into the room. Somewhere outside, birds sang cheerfully, welcoming the new day. Servants would already be moving through the halls, preparing breakfast and carrying on with their lives.
Yet everything felt different.
The sharp clang of striking steel drifted up from below, followed by the grunts of men sparring in the training yard. The familiar sounds sent an unwelcome jolt through me, and my body immediately tensed.
I forced myself to take a slow, steady breath.
Then another.
Until gradually, the tightness in my chest eased.
I had just opened my eyes and started to shift upright when the doors swung open.
Mildred stepped inside, carrying a breakfast tray as I pushed myself into a sitting position.
"Ah, you are awake," she said, sweeping into the room carrying a breakfast tray, placing it carefully upon the table beside the bed.
"Eat," she instructed. "Lord Gwrgenau has ordered that you spend the entire day resting. The healer will return this afternoon to examine your stitches."
I nodded.
Slowly, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The moment my feet touched the floor, however, the room begin to spin violently around me.
A sharp wave of vertigo crashing through my skull.
I sucked in a breath and grabbed for the bedpost, but my fingers closed around empty air. Whether I had risen too quickly or my body was finally reacting to everything that had happened the night before, I could not tell.
At least not without the proper medical equipment this place hadn't discovered yet.
Mildred held onto me before I could fall.
"Easy now," she scolded, setting a firm hand beneath my arm and helping me steady myself. "You are forever trying to prove you are stronger than you truly are."
I managed a weak smile and allowed her to support me until the dizziness began to pass.
Outside, the familiar sounds of steel striking steel drifted through the open windows. Men shouted. Wooden practice weapons cracked together.
I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the breakfast waiting for me.
Yet one voice carried above all others.
The sound of it sent an unwelcome knot twisting through my chest.
I remembered that voice rasping out my name in the darkness just last night. Remembered the weight of his darkened gaze. The roughness of his touch.
I looked away from the window immediately, as though that might somehow silence the memory but it did not.
"He has been training since dawn," Mildred said when she noticed where my attention had drifted. "Right after burying his men."
I nodded and lowered my gaze, intending to move away from the window.
But something caught my eye.
Down in the training yard, amidst the sea of warriors sand wooden practice dummies, Gen stood bareheaded beneath the morning sun. Sweat glistened against his bare skin as he sparred with one of his men. He moved with an efficiency that was almost frightening.
Every strike precise, every step deliberate.
The older soldier barely managed to hold his ground before Gen disarmed him with a sharp twist and sent him sprawling into the dirt.
Even from this distance, I could see the frustration simmering beneath his composure. He was not simply training.
Gen was trying to exhaust his anger.
My gaze must've lingered a moment too long, because Mildred remained beside the window, holding onto my arm. There was a softness there when she fixed her eyes upon him, something maternal beneath her usual sternness.
"Those vile Romans still trouble him," she muttered, her voice thick with bitterness. "After all these years."
Her hands tightened around my arm.
"He defeats them in battle, and they simply return with larger legions. They take our people, seize our grain, drag men and women away into slavery." Her expression hardened. "They never stop."
I remained silent.
"He defeated their legatus once. Nearly drove them from these lands altogether."
A humorless laugh escaped her.
My attention sharpened, my mind flying to Marcus, the legatus that he nearly defeated.
"And yet he was betrayed."
Down below, Gen drove another soldier backward with such force that the man stumbled.
"The son of their Caesar came under the banner of peace," Mildred continued. "Then broke every promise he made."
Her voice dropped.
"By the time Lord Gwrgenau realized what had happened, his family was already dead."
The words settled heavily between us.
My eyes drifted back to the training yard, where Gen had already stopped moving.
His sword hung loosely at his side, breathing hard. The morning sun turned his hair to gold, a color that reminded me far too much of Garrick. Yet the resemblance ended there.
He looked up, those blue eyes found mine once more.
Just as they had the night before, before I squeezed my eyes shut and cried to sleep. He had gathered me against him afterward, murmuring apologies I had not wanted to hear, offering comfort I had never asked for. The gentleness of it felt mockingly cruel after the way he had taken what was never his to claim.
"Come," Mildred said, pulling me from my thoughts as she ushered me away from the window. "You should eat before we prepare your bath. Lord Gwrgenau will be with you shortly."
I nodded and allowed her to guide me toward the table.
If she noticed my hesitation, she interpreted it entirely differently. A faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, probably mistaking my silence for affection.
I let her, since it was easier that way.
If I wanted any chance of surviving this, I needed them to believe I was compliant. Harmless, even. I needed them to see a frightened woman with nowhere else to go, until Marcus could come for me.
He was alive, no matter how trapped I felt within these walls, the fact remained unchanged.
He would come for me, and until then, I would endure.
I picked at the bread on my plate without much appetite. The honey tasted too sweet, the cheese too rich. My stomach remained stubbornly knotted, making every bite feel like a chore.
Mildred busied herself around the room while I forced down a few mouthfuls.
I had barely finished half my breakfast when the bedroom door opened, and the room seemed to shift immediately.
Mildred straightened.
And without needing to look up, I already knew who had entered.
Gen.
Slowly, I raised my eyes from the untouched remains of my meal.
"Helena."