Mira woke slowly, as if her body did not trust the world enough to rise quickly.
The room was unfamiliar again. The stone walls were smoother than the cells below the fortress, and the narrow window allowed pale winter light to slip across the floor. The bed beneath her was softer than anything she had slept on since arriving in Silverfang territory.
Her chest still hurt because the pain from the council chamber had not been imagined.
It had been real. She sat up carefully and pressed her palm against her ribs. The ache had faded into a dull pressure, like a bruise beneath the skin.
The door opened quietly. Ryker entered, but he did not speak at first. He crossed the room and set a wooden cup on the table beside her bed.
“Drink,” he said. His voice was controlled, but the bond told he
