Chiara's POV
The first thing I felt was the sharp sting in my arm.
My eyes fluttered open and met the dim glow of the tent lanterns, their golden light flickering against the canvas walls that swayed faintly in the cool Italian night breeze. Everything smelled of crushed herbs, antiseptic oils, and something bitter—so different from the battlefield earlier that had reeked of blood, sweat, and the foul stench of rogues.
I blinked, trying to sit up, but a voice stopped me.
“Easy there,” the doctor said softly, placing a steady hand on my shoulder.
Her dark curls were tied back loosely, and her face carried the weary lines of someone who had not slept in hours, though her tone remained calm.
“You’ve been through quite a lot.”
“Raffaele?” I croaked, my throat dry and raw.
The doctor sm
