For a full week, Eiravyne remained in Urag's room.
Every morning followed the same gentle rhythm.
She would wake to pale light spilling across the walls..
Theodore would visit early, climbing up beside her with the careful seriousness of someone trying very hard not to break something fragile.
They spoke in low voices about small things, what he had eaten, which corridor he had explored, how the garden smelled..
Then he would be taken away again.
And the silence would return.
The maids never left her alone for long. They moved around her with practiced softness, changing linens, bringing broth and tea, brushing her hair, checking her bandages with reverent care.
They smiled, they reassured her, they told her she was healing remarkably well.
Too well.
Each day she felt stronger. The ache faded faster than it should have.
Bruises that should have lingered yellowed and vanished.
Her breath came easier. Her limbs obeyed her again.
She noticed.
And it unsettled her.
