He looks up when I stir. “Don’t sit up.”
“I wasn’t…,” I start. My voice is raspy, my throat dry.
Eres’s brows lift in a look that says he doesn’t believe me. I sigh when he reaches out and hands me a cup filled with water. “You weregoingto.”
I swallow and try my best to stay still without spilling it down me. “How long did I sleep?”
He glances toward the narrow window. “Not long enough, considering.”
My head turns. Darian lies between where I am, and where Kaelen climbed in beside him. His hair is a dark spill across the pillow, his mouth parted. A bruise shadows his temple, more still visible over his shirtless chest that rises and falls, slow and steady.
There’s a faint crease between his brows, even in sleep.
Kaelen’s side of the bed is empty. The sheets there look cold.
My throat tightens. “Where is he?”
Eres follows my gaze. “Talking about formations and choke points. He has a lot to do today, but you’ll see him tonight.”
“Tonight?”
His smile is something close to a secret. “You’ll see.”
Part of me is relieved that he’s not here, that I don’t have to face him again. Part of me wishes he was here anyway. “He was angry.”
“He was.” Eres runs his hand over my brow, cupping my cheek. “And so was I.”
Outside of the room, the castle is awake in a way I haven’t heard before. Footsteps echo, up and down the corridor. Voices bark in the distance, sharp with urgency. Someone shouts an order about the west rampart. “What’s happening?”
Eres gracefully picks up my distraction. “Everyone is preparing.”
Because the Lightbringers are coming. My stomach knots.
Eres’s fingers leave my pulse and move to my face when I flinch. He tilts my chin gently, inspecting my cheekbones, my eyes. “Headache?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Worse when you move?”
“Yes.” He hums softly, then reaches for his belt and produces a small vial. “Drink.”
I open my mouth and he tips it, letting a few bitter drops fall onto my tongue that spread warmth down my throat. “What concoction is this? You seem to have an endless amount.”
He half-smiles. “Something that stops you pretending you’re fine.”
Despite myself, a laugh threatens. It turns into a cough. Eres’s eyes soften. “Rest today, Lyra.”
“I can’t,” I say automatically. I’m not sure I even knowhowto rest.
Eres’s gaze sharpens. “You can.”
I shift my eyes toward Darian, still asleep. “He—”
“I’m checking him next,” Eres says, already sliding his hand under the blanket to feel Darian’s forehead. “He’s still quilled, but the new batch of antidote will be done later today. Mild concussion, bruising. He’ll live.”
Darian’s eyes snap open abruptly, as if he was listening. His gaze lands on Eres first, then flicks to me. For a heartbeat, he looks relieved. Then his face hardens.
“You’re awake,” he says, voice rough from sleep. I suddenly find myself unsure what to do with my limbs.
