Morwenna's POV
Fire danced in my vision. Not literal flames, but veins of burning light behind my eyes, threading through my skull. I clenched the basin tighter, knuckles white, breath shallow as the coughing came again—deep, raw, ripping. I spat blood into the silver bowl, watching the red swirl with the rinse water. Thicker than yesterday. More violent.
Sabine stood by the door, silent but tense, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade. She knew better than to ask if I was fine. I hated the question. I was not fine. I was breaking, slowly, quietly, like frost splitting stone.
"That was the third time today," she said at last, her voice hushed.
"Fourth," I corrected, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "The first was before sunrise."
She moved closer. "You need to rest. This
