She took in the shape of her body. They had done much more than that. Once she got used to the pain, she was able to fully take in the size of her thighs, the meat and muscle. How? As she shifted her weight, she found the soreness to be somewhat tolerable.
It would hurt like hell, but she could run if she needed to.
Helaina walked to the mirror hanging in that small, carved-out alcove. She patted her face, watching her reflection copy her every move, proving itwasher staring back. The dark-purple bags were gone from under her eyes. For the first time in months, she looked well rested. Her cheeks no longer turned inward. She inspected her hands to find they, too, were fuller somehow.
Months of self-inflicted punishment had been miraculously wiped clean. This washerbody. The way it used to be. It wasn’t as strong, she could feel that. The strength she once had would take time and effort to recoup. But her feminine curves were more prominent, her shape more physically fit.
Her body was whole again.
A pleasant aroma caught her attention, bringing her gaze to the nightstand. She walked back toward her bed and sat, scanning a plate of food. A melody of spices and vegetables steamed from a bowl of broth. To the side there was roasted chicken and a hefty loaf of bread. A cup of tea that smelled of honey and citrus sat at the corner of the tray. Her mouth was salivating at the presentation. Food was necessary. She couldn’t keep passing out. She reached out her hand, then quickly withdrew it.
Could she trust the food here?
“It’s not poisoned.” A tender voice sounded from the doorway.
Her neck snapped to the side.
The golden-haired male leaned against the door arch. “It would be a waste of magic to heal you just to kill you. How senseless do you think we are?” He approached her with a long, outstretched hand. “I don’t think we were allowed proper introductions. My name is Manos Rivegard.”
She wasn’t about to allow another one of them within arm’s reach of her again. She lunged for the plate of food and smashed the porcelain teacup to the ground, sending hot liquid and pointy fragments in every direction. She snagged the largest jagged piece and pointed it straight at him.
“Get back!” The porcelain was still piping hot, but she refused to let it drop. Her arm trembled as she forced herself to keep it upright.
Manos paused, his expression turning from warm and inviting to pure surprise.
He stepped away, retracting his greeting and placing his hands up in the air as a gesture of surrender. He resumed his original position at the door.
She got to her feet and began sidestepping toward the open door. “Tell me how to get back to Keles.”
He gave her an impish grin. “You’re so quick to leave when you haven’t even seen what we can offer you. Whathecan offer you.”
“You have nothing I want. Now, how do I get home?” The wordhomemade her heart plummet to her gut. Home didn’t exist for her.
She didn’t belong anywhere.
Manos nodded to the tray. “You need to eat. Lionel’s magic only goes so far. If you don’t like what’s there, I can get you something else. Perhaps another cup of tea since yours is... gone.”
Lionel’s magic? Whoever this Lionel was, he had the power to turn back time. The healers she had worked alongside in Oakmire could never do anything close to this. None of them possessed magic. Even Madge was limited in her own skills and knowledge.
“This kind of magic... isn’t supposed to exist anymore. Your healers... they can do this?” She gestured to her body.
“Just Lionel, he shares blood with the God of Life and Light. Now will you please eat? I don’t feel like being yelled at.”
She could barely keep the jagged makeshift weapon level. A descendant of Nedos himself had brought her from the brink of death.
“You obviously have a lot of questions. Let’s make a deal. For every bite you take, I’ll give you an answer.”
She couldn’t believe he was turning this into some kind of game.
She took a deep breath and inhaled that seductive, herby aroma again.
“Fine,” Helaina grumbled, settling on the side of the bed, holding the porcelain weapon with one hand while reaching for a spoon with the other. Only she couldn’t find one.
“There’s no silverware.” She looked at him in confusion.
He waved his fingers in the air. “We eat with our hands here.”
“It’ssoup.”
