The bruise should not have come back.
Silver noticed it while washing her hands at dawn, the basin water glinting pale blue beneath the high windows. Her knuckles were mostly healed, the faint yellow of old impact already fading.
But on her ribs, just beneath her left breast, a dark mark had returned.
Purple, deep, like a thumbprint.
She pressed it, but there was no pain, just awareness.
Her wolf stirred faintly, like something turning over in the dark. That wasn’t normal, bruises didn’t return, wolves healed fast, faster than humans, faster than memory.
She pulled on her shirt slowly, her fingers trembling, and stepped into the corridor.
Guards were already stationed, two in front, two behind. Their presence pressed against her senses like fog. She walked anyway, Arthur was waiting
