Cassius woke to the sound of rain tapping softly against glass.
For a moment, he did not remember where he was, only the dull ache in his chest, the heaviness in his limbs, and the faint scent of crushed herbs and smoke lingering in the air. Then the room came into focus: pale wooden beams, shelves lined with jars of dried leaves and powdered roots, a hearth burning low and steady.
The healer's house.
He shifted, wincing as pain flared along his ribs. Whatever magic had been used to keep him alive had done its work, but it had not been gentle. His body felt like it had been dragged back from the edge rather than carried.
"You're awake."
The voice did not belong to the healer.
Cassius's muscles tightened instantly. He turned his head and froze.
