ANWEN'S POV
I woke up shivering again.
My skin burned, yet I was drenched in sweat. Damp hair clung to my temples; my nightgown stuck to my back.
None of it surprised me.
The fevers always came like this. Sudden and consuming, wringing me out until I felt hollow. They had followed me for as long as I could remember. If I pushed myself too hard, stayed out too long, forgot to rest, or if the weather simply turned against me... the fever always found me.
But Arlo always found me too.
So when something warm and wet pressed against my forehead, relief washed through me. My muscles loosened. My breath eased.
“Arlo…” My voice came out small, rough with sleep and fever.
No answer.
I blinked my eyes open, but the world remained black. That wasn’t strange. Our small, aging cottage was alwa
