Several healers moved carefully between the beds, their voices low and deliberate as they worked.
At the far end of the chamber, King Kaelvryn stood beside Valen's bed.
He had not moved for nearly an hour, his arms were folded tightly across his chest, though the posture did nothing to hide the tension that gripped his entire body.
The rage that had nearly erupted earlier in the courtyard still simmered beneath his skin.
Valen lay motionless beneath the blankets, her pale face barely visible against the soft glow of the nearby lantern. Clean bandages wrapped tightly around her ribs and shoulder, while fresh linen had replaced the torn clothing that had once been soaked in blood.
The healers had worked quickly but the amount of blood she had lost had been far too great.
"She remains stable," the chief healer had said several times.
But stable did not mean awake, Kaelvryn reached out slowly, brushing his fingers lightly across the edge of the blanket near her arm.
