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I’d woken moments ago, my head pounding, my eyes watering as I forced them open. My gaze found Demos, pacing like a caged animal as he snarled at someone. Someone with a low, patient voice.
“She will wake when she wakes. Head injuries are immensely taxing on the body, and she will need plenty of rest. She should sleep for a few days.”
“She won’t,” Demos muttered darkly, and I almost smiled.
The man sighed. “In that case, you will have to ensure she spends much of her time resting while you travel. Try to keep her in the shade and hydrated whenever possible. I will give her a tonic to take with her. But I must make it clear—if she travels in this condition, it is against my advice.”
Demos was silent for long enough that I could practically feel him considering ways to keep me flat on my back while he went looking for Prisca without me. My jaw suddenly hurt, and I realized I was clenching my teeth.
Pushing against the soft mattress, I attempted to sit up. Stars burst behind my eyes, and I gasped at the pain. Somehow, my head seemed to hurt worse than before. What kind of healer was this man?
“Ah, she’s awake,” he said, stepping toward me. His face was weathered, his hands gnarled, his eyes kind.
Demos was instantly next to me. “Don’t move.”
Within a moment, he seemed to understand I was planning to ignore that order, because he cursed, locating a few pillows, which he unceremoniously shoved beneath my head and shoulders.
“Where are we?”
“Just outside of Hemiarath.”
I studied the room. I was cocooned in a patchwork quilt, its fabric soft from years of use. The bedroom was cozy, inviting. Fresh wild flowers were placed in a squat vase on the nightstand, while two other beds with quilts were pressed against the opposite wall, dotted with embroidered pillows.
The vaulted ceiling and exposed roof beams added to the airy feel of the room, while the rug looked as if it had been handmade.
I attempted to sit up farther, giving up when it drove another shard of agony into my brain.
“Where’s Lorian?”
Demos’s eyes hardened. “He disappeared at some point, while I was busy ensuring you kept breathing.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “My apologies for the inconvenience.”
A hint of humor flickered through those amber eyes. “Apology accepted.”
The healer handed me a cup of water. “My name is Jyris. Can you tell me your name?”
“Asinia.”
“And where are you from, Asinia?”
Demos went very still, his gaze landing on the healer.
Jyris sighed. “Memory loss is common with head injuries. If you don’t wish to tell me where you’re from, please tell me if you remember what you did today.”
I cleared my throat and sipped at the water. “Uh, we were traveling. From the caves.”
Jyris glanced at Demos, who nodded.
“And how old are you?”
Demos’s eyes turned flat. He loomed next to Jyris, his body language making it clear he wasn’t happy with this line of questioning. I couldn’t detect any threat from Jyris, but Demos usually preferred to ere on the side of caution.
Jyris sighed once more. “Believe me, I have no desire to risk annoying the Bloodthirsty Prince.”
“Don’t call him that,” I said automatically. Prisca had made it clear she didn’t like it, and I couldn’t exactly blame her. Demos sent me an amused look, and I couldn’t help but smile at him. The moment stretched, and I returned my attention to Jyris.
“Tell me this, then,” Jyris said, picking up my arm. “Do you remember how you got this scar?”
