Chapter 30
Morning did not soothe anything.
I woke to the dull throb of my wrists and the heavier, invisible ache of a night that refused to stay in the past. Tristan was already awake. He lay on his side facing me, eyes open in the gray light, one hand resting lightly over the bandages as if even in stillness he needed the proof that I was solid and present. The gold had finally faded from his irises, but the intensity beneath them had not.
“You didn’t sleep,” I whispered.
“I slept enough.” His thumb traced a careful line just above the edge of the gauze. “How bad?”
“Sore. Bearable.” I flexed my fingers slowly. The silver burns pulled tight, but the worst of the chemical fog had lifted from my head. “Better than the alternative.”
Something dark moved through his expression. He leane
