The room was quiet, too quiet.
Thick curtains muffled the sounds of the outside world. The air smelled faintly of herbs, salves, and iron from dried blood. Apollo stood by the bedside, her eyes flicking over Draka’s motionless form with sharp focus. She had been in the palace for three days now, rarely leaving the chamber except to collect more healing supplies.
Draka had gained consciousness just a day ago, but he couldn’t speak. He hadn’t uttered a word since awakening, his throat scorched from the venom that had tried to destroy him from the inside. Still, he was alive, and that was something.
He communicated only with his eyes—those fierce, eyes that once held the soul of a beast, now dulled by pain but still burning with life.
Apollo placed a cool cloth on his forehead, speaking s
