Nyx's Mother's POV
The bandages covered most of her left arm, but I could see enough. The fabric bulked around the damage where teeth had torn through my daughter's flesh, the healers positioning her arm carefully to keep it from moving. My daughter had nearly lost her arm because she'd been stupid enough to save the life of the man who murdered her father.
I sat in the chair beside Nyx's bed, holding her right hand in both of mine, and tried to breathe through the rage that threatened to choke me.
She looked so small lying there, so pale and broken and still. This was my daughter who'd always been full of life, who'd smiled even in the worst times, who'd spent hours in our healing gardens learning every herb and flower by heart.
And he'd done this to her.
The scratches on her uninjur
