Selena blinked against the harsh sunlight, the edges of the room still blurred by lingering haze.
Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton; each breath a labor against the heaviness in her chest
For a moment she lay still, her mind struggling to catch up with her senses.
The first thing she realized was that she was not in her own bed.
The scent of herbs and antiseptic reached her next—sharp, earthy, and unmistakable. It lingered thickly in the air, slowly pulling her from the fog of unconsciousness.
Her gaze drifted across the unfamiliar room until it settled on him.
Silas sat rigidly at her side, his posture perfectly straight, his dark gaze fixed on her with a stillness that made the room feel smaller. One of his hands rested near hers on the edge of the cot, close enough to touch but not quite doing so.
"Silas?" Her voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper. Even that small effort made a dull ache spread through her chest.
His expression did not change.
