Eliana POV
“I’m not asking,” Astrid said, hands on her hips, standing like a stone wall between me and the east wing training hall. “You’re resting today.”
I blinked at her, wondering if maybe I was still half-asleep. Or hallucinating.
She wasn’t joking.
No sword strapped to her back. No smug grin teasing the edge of her mouth. Just a plain tunic, rolled sleeves, and that terrifying blend of maternal concern and immovable will. The kind of stance you didn’t challenge unless you were feeling especially reckless—or suicidal.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, attempting to sidestep.
She stepped right with me, blocking the path again. “You fainted two nights ago. Cracked your head open like a dropped melon. You haven’t even healed fully, and you look like a ghost who lost a fight with a windstorm.
