"Hold still." Corra pressed two fingers against Aldric's wrist and counted silently, his eyes on the ceiling, his expression carrying the particular concentration of someone who was thinking harder than he was letting on.
Aldric held still.
He was sitting up in bed — or as close to sitting up as Corra had permitted, which was propped against the headboard with three pillows arranged behind him in a configuration that Corra had assembled himself and that Aldric had not been in a position to object to.
The fever had broken an hour ago. His colour was back. His hands had stopped shaking.
He felt hollowed out in the specific way the Ashveil episodes left him — not weak exactly, more like a fire that had burned through everything available and was now sitting in the ash.
"Pulse is steadie
