Pivoting, I returned to Baevera’s side, and crossed my arms.
“Hey, stop that,” I ordered sternly. “You will have to endure this quietly. Your healer is newly pregnant and in no state to assist you. She needs every ounce of rest she can get, and even I am not monster enough to interrupt that sleep.”
She did not hear me. Or maybe she did, but the voices in her head was louder.
Her thrashing worsened. She kicked the covers away. A wrapped wound on her arm tore open, bleeding sluggishly through the soaked bandages.
Her breathing came fast, too fast, like a cornered animal. “Stop! No, do not touch me…please…I am tired, it hurts… I am tired.”
Where in the hell is she?
I was not surprised her feverish hallucinations leaned more toward horror plays than sweet fantasies, but still, was it
