Silas looked worse in daylight.
The infirmary had been made too clean for what had happened inside it. White cloth covered the narrow bed. Brass lamps burned with steady golden light despite the gray morning beyond the windows. Bowls of steeped herbs sat on a side table beside clean bandages, silver tongs, and a basin of water already stained pink from use. The scent should have been comforting, all lavender and crushed green leaves, but beneath it clung the metallic thread of blood and the sour bite of burned skin.
Sera stood just inside the door and let her eyes move before her feet did.
Two windows, both latched. One door behind her. A cabinet tall enough for someone thin to hide inside if they were patient and foolish. No curtain behind the bed. No visible weapons except the healer’
