She woke to the smell of smoke and blood.
Aria's eyes fluttered open, her vision swimming. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, dark wood beams crossed with shadows. Her body ached in ways she had never imagined possible. Every muscle screamed. Every bone felt like it had been shattered and reassembled. She tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through her shoulder, and she gasped.
"Easy."
The voice was soft, familiar. She turned her head slowly. Damian was there, seated beside the bed, his face drawn with exhaustion. His eyes were red-rimmed, dark circles shadowing his gaze.
"Damian," she whispered. "What happened?"
He took her hand. "You are in Blackthorn,in my quarters. You have been unconscious for two days."
Two days. She tried to sit up, but Damian pressed her back down gently.
