The first thing Aria feels is cold.
A deep, aching cold that seeps through her skin, through her bones, until even her heartbeat feels slowed by frost. Then comes the pain — dull, heavy, and everywhere.
Her lashes flutter, sticking together from sweat and tears. The ceiling above her is low and cracked, a single candle burning weakly on a wooden table. The air smells faintly of damp straw and clean water.
Something warm brushes her forehead.
She flinches instinctively, a small sound escaping her lips, but the touch is gentle. A low voice follows, quiet and careful.
“Easy now,” it says. “You’re safe. Just breathe.”
Her vision clears a little, and she sees him — Liam, the stable boy. His sleeves are rolled to the elbow, his hands stained faintly from work, but his touch is cautious, re
