I woke with a start.
The air smelled of old wood, clean linen, and rain. For a moment I thought I was dead—or dreaming—until the weight of my own body pulled me back to reality.
Pain.
A pain so vast it seemed to fill every corner of me.
I tried to move. The simple act of turning my head tore a groan from my throat. The room spun with me, slow spirals of light and blur. The light filtering through the window was pale, trembling, as if the morning itself was unsure of being one.
I recognized the place before I dared confirm it.
The dark stone wall.
The ash-colored curtains.
The window frame that opened to the forest.
The marriage bed.
Moon’s Fang.
Here again.
Panic rose up my throat like a flood of ice.
I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t obey. My ribs ached with every breat
