My throat was sorer than it had ever been, and my skin felt tight. I pushed myself upright and glanced around the bedroom I had been using since arriving in Erania. For a full minute, I doubted my wispy memories were real. Maybe it all had been a dream. Swallowing hurt, and I gulped hard to steady my nerves. Reaching up, I touched a bandage at my throat. I tensed, expecting agony to flare, but dull aches were my reward. I lowered my hand. Henri’s teas were no doubt the reason I could bear sitting up so soon. As before, all my pains were tolerable. I flung the sheets aside in my haste to examine my cast. Bending my knee confirmed this one had no treads. It was as standard as my first had been. A sharp snort from the corner startled me. Ghedi sprawled in the chair, mouth open, snoring. He looked well, healthy. His color was good and his breathing even. I hated to wake him. “Does Henri—?” My voice cracked, dry from disuse, so I tried again. “Does he know—?” I set off a coughing fit that pulled at the sticky edges of the bandage at my neck.
