I c***k my eyes open and face the dawn bitterly. I’m back in my chambers on the massive bed. Feathers poke out at my cheek and eye through the pillowcase.
When I go to sit up, I find that I can’t. My arms refuse to support my body. I can’t even straighten my elbows.
With enough wriggling, I manage to flip onto my back and let out a monumental whine. I feel as though I’ve swum the wide, choppy strait between Kleshvar and Lanton. I’m a beached whale, heaving, and begging for life.
Begging for life.
The violent echoes of the needy earth come back to me. I groan and bring my hands up to my ears. It’s futile to try and block out the whispering demands; the sound is coming from within me. The hungry cries reverberate in my marrow.
“You’re awake,” a man says from my bedside.
I c***k my eyes
