He was lying on his back on the massive four-poster bed. He was wearing nothing on his upper body and his white ceremonial tunic was lying on a chair nearby. Soren couldn't remember what happened after the extreme pain hit him in the garden, and even now, as his eyes opened, he realized he was already in the Queen's bedchamber, HIS chamber.
He could still feel the lingering pain in his body, the most painful sensation running from his throat to his chest and settling in his stomach, which felt like it was being squeezed from the inside.
He groaned and massaged his forehead. He lifted his hand, Soren suddenly sat up and fixed his eyes on his own torso. Across his bronze-coloured, battle scarred skin, stretching from the base of his ribs to below his waist, was a faint, shimmering gold mark. The markings looked like a complex pattern of glowing roots, formed into tight, closed flower petals.
