“In case you haven’t noticed, she’s not fit to dine with anyone,” he—I assumed Bran—said. “She has altitude poisoning. Tell Charlet to inform the king.”
“We cannot refuse an order?—”
“Do you want me to drag her unconscious body to the royal dining room? Should we strap her to a chair so she doesn’t fall face first into her food?” he snapped. “She’s not fit to dine withanyoneright now, king or not!”
The girl mumbled something under her breath, but I couldn’t make it out before the door slammed shut again. I groaned, the sound felt thunderous against my skull.
“Drink.” Fingers gripped my jaw, and I felt a glass of cold liquid meet my lips the next second.
I downed the entire cup, not caring when half of it spilled down my chin.
“It’ll wear off soon,” Bran said. “The next few hours will be the worst, but you should start to feel better and…”
I had no idea what else he said before oblivion swallowed me again.
My eyes flutteredopen as I slowly came back to myself. Mercifully, the nausea faded, but I was still fighting the urge to pass out and my head was throbbing with the worst headache I’d ever had in my life.
“You need to eat,” a deep voice said, and it sounded vaguely familiar.
I thought about responding, but couldn’t muster my thoughts yet. The most I could do was keep my eyes open. It was still daylight,judging from the light shining through the curtains in my peripheral. I was still lying in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Intricate designs of gilded molding ran across the paneling that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Menders pumped your veins with fluids,” the voice added, “but you need food of real substance. And a bath.”
My eyes narrowed, but I was just glad I could keep them open. Food actually sounded wonderful.
I repositioned slightly on the bed, just enough so I could scan the room. A man was standing by the foot of the mattress. My eyes traveled up, his head coming to just below the door frame behind him that I knew he had to be so much taller than me.
I forced myself to sit up, leaning my back against the headboard. My entire body throbbed, and the movement made everything feel worse.
“You’re Bran?” I guessed.
He nodded. He had dark wavy hair, chestnut eyes, and freckles painted over dark skin. My body relaxed at that, he looked so different from Dahes that I immediately liked him for it.
“And you’re about to get me in more trouble.” My brows scrunched, but before I could ask him what he meant, he answered for me. “The king is furious that you’re only just waking up now. No one has ever come back to Viven after being in Moriann, so we had no idea how long it would take you to recover.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Five days.”
Shit. Five days? Fear ran through me, wondering if Dahes tried to contact me, but I was too out of it to respond.
It also meant five days of not gathering information, of not focusing on the hunt…
I had no idea how long he planned on keeping me here, but I knew my time was limited.
“I pushed off interactions for as long as I could,” Bran said, “but seeing as you’re functional now, you’ll dine with the king for breakfast.”
I nodded, rubbing at my eyes and stifling a yawn, having no ideawhy I was so tired if I’d been out for so long. I felt like I’d fallen down the Senith, and I needed to be more awake to properly pull this off.
My body jostled and my head slammed against the headboard as Bran clapped his hands—loudly—in my face. “Hello? Do you have a brain cell left in that pretty head of yours, or are all Morianns this dense?”
I leveled his gaze with a stare of my own, but he wasn’t backing down. He shifted, moving from the foot of the bed to my side, and that’s when I noticed what he was wearing. Silky cream linens made up his pants and top, the color matching perfectly. It was simple, but polished, and I couldn’t stop thinking how it contrasted from the Wielders and drakins’ uniforms I saw in the throne room. Was he a commoner then or had his Token just not manifested yet? I had no idea what their societal norms were, and it was hard to gauge anyone’s age.
“That means you needed to get ready like five hours ago,” Bran snapped as he placed his hands over his hips in front of me. “You’re nowhere near presentable to meet the king.”
“How old are you?” I asked, unable to stop the question from rolling off my tongue.
He looked taken aback. “What does that have to do with—” He stopped himself, letting out a frustrated sigh. “If I tell you, will you get your ass out of bed and into the bath?”
