When I finally opened my eyes, the world swam back into focus slowly, piece by blurry piece.
I lay in the familiar grand bed of my private chambers back at the palace, the heavy silk sheets tangled around my battered body and the faint scent of healing herbs hanging thick in the air from salves slathered on my wounds.
My head throbbed under layers of soft white bandages wrapped tight around my skull, and the rest of me felt the same—arms, chest, legs all swathed in fresh linen that itched against raw skin.
Every muscle screamed with deep, bone-weary exhaustion, like I'd been asleep for days without moving a finger.
Did I win?
The thought flickered hazy through the pain fog. My left eye sat swollen shut in a ugly black bruise that pulsed hot, forcing me to squint through the right one just to make out the carved wooden beams overhead.
