Rosamund
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking against the candlelight.
Then I turned my head and saw Nevan sitting in the chair beside the bed, watching me.
"Am I dead?" I croaked. "Because if this is the afterlife and you're here, I must have gone to hell. There's no way you made it to heaven."
He didn't say anything. He didn't even smile. He just sat there with that unreadable stillness behind the mask, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, his posture rigid and his eyes fixed on my face.
I pushed myself up slowly. Pain lanced through my arm and shoulder, and I winced. "Relax, Nevan," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "That was supposed to make you laugh. I was joking. What's with the intense gaze?"
"How do you feel?" He asked instead, ignoring my question.
I looked down at my hands. The dark veins were gone, and the black line that had crawled up my arm had disappeared entirely. I turned my hands over, studying both sides, then looked down at my arms, my chest and my lap.
