(Caspian's POV)
I left the broken Ward to my warriors and ran to the coldest room at the back of the pack house.
Seraphina's door came off its hinges under my boot.
Inside stood a wooden frame with a worn mattress, one threadbare blanket and a rickety nightstand.
A cracked water jug sat beside an empty tin of pain-numbing herbs. There was no fire. Nothing hung on the walls.
Ice covered the inside of the window. For years, I had passed this door on my way to warmer rooms. I had assumed she slept wherever the servants slept.
The mattress was so narrow that one shoulder would touch the wall.
A cheap calendar hung from a nail. Twenty-one days of the current month had been crossed out in black.
The marks started on the date of her diagnosis. Each line had been drawn with enough pressure
