*****
Varya stepped out of the medical bay, her breath shallow, her fingers trembling and stained with blood. The sleeves of her tunic were soaked up to her elbows. It wasn't hers. Lorraine's blood still clung to her skin like the memory of death refusing to let go.
Cyrin stepped out pf the room, to speak with Kieran about the dwindling wolfsbane supply… about the queen… about everything that could break the fragile thread still holding them all together. But Varya? She needed air, needed to breathe before the walls of that underground hideout crushed her from within.
She climbed the stairs leading up to the surface, each step feeling heavier than the last. The door that once sealed the underground stronghold had been torn off by Kieran days ago. In its place was a makeshift barricade, rough wood and metal welded into something that only just passed for security.
