Stone sweated. Morning slid toward night. Water receded to puddles. Audrey's skin burned even as her hands felt cold.
“Now?" the wolf asked, softer than before.
“Not yet," she whispered. “Not here."
“You are warm," it noted.
“Too warm," she said.
Keys scraped. The steward stood aside and two guards hesitated.
“Back to your quarters," the steward said.
Audrey nodded once and climbed the stairs herself. She reached her small room and shut the door.
She sat on the bed and the world tilted. The wolf prowled, restless and protective.
Her head throbbed.
She closed her eyes. A rap. “Miss?" Marta slipped in, carrying a cup that steamed. "Ginger and mint. And salt."
“Thank you," Audrey said, voice rougher than she meant.
Marta went pale. “You're burning."
“It will pass," Audrey said.
