"Sleep," he said softly, and there was power in it. Not command as Eliam wielded but a suggestion, a request.
She slept.
Darkness. Water. Hands pulling, pulling, pulling her down. Too many fingers, too many joints, dragging her into the deep places where pressure would crush her bones to powder. Above, through the murky water, Eliam stood at the edge watching. Just watching. His face expressionless as she drowned. As the creatures tore at her. As her lungs filled and filled and—
Light.
Briar gasped awake, hands clutching at blankets instead of fighting water. Real blankets. Dry blankets. Sunlight, actual sunlight, streamed through tall windows, warming her face with gentle heat that had nothing to do with fae magic or forest shadows.
The room was unfamiliar but beautiful in its own way. Where Eliam's domain had been all dark wood and living architecture, this was carved stone and flowing fabric. The furniture looked made rather than grown. Still elegant. Still inhuman. But lighter somehow.
She lay in a bed with white linens that smelled of lavender. Her body ached but distantly, and when she looked down, she wore a simple shift of pale blue. Someone had braided her hair while she slept, wound it crown-style to keep it from tangling.
The terror of drowning still clung to her, but here in this bright room, it felt distant. She wasn't in the water. Wasn't in the dark. Wasn't drowning while he watched with those cold green eyes.
At least not yet.
The mark pulsed once, lazy and content. It should have been screaming. Should have been burning her alive for her defiance. Instead it lay quiet against her skin, the thorns still but present. Not absent but sleeping.
That was almost worse, like the calm before the inevitable storm. He was waiting.
She pushed herself upright, head spinning slightly. How long had she been unconscious? One night? Two? How much of her borrowed time was already spent?
She heard voices in the hallway growing louder, but not closer.
"—reckless beyond measure!" A female's voice, sharp with anger. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I saved her life," another replied, steady but strained.
Arion.
"You've signed all our death warrants!" The woman again. Something familiar about the voice. "When he comes, and he will come—"
"The law is the law, Ferria."
Ferria. The sister from the rescue, the one with illusion magic.
"Do you think he really cares about law when it comes to what's his?" Her voice dropped but carried clearly. "You told us what she did. Those flowers, that's not normal, even for a marked human. That's something else. Something that shouldn't exist."
"Which is why we need tounderstand—"
"Which is why we need to send her back! Now! Before he decides we're keeping her on purpose!"
"I won't send an injured woman back to torture."
"Better one mortal than our entire court!"
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?" Ferria's laugh was bitter. "How many will he kill when he comes for her? How many will he torture for information we don't have? You saved one life and doomed dozens."
"You don't know that."
"I knowhim." Something in her voice changed, it sounded older, sadder even. "I know what he's capable of when something he considers his is taken. And she ishis, Arion. Down to her bones. Whatever made those flowers bloom doesn't change that. However you feel doesn’t change that."
“I just want to help her.”
“I’ve known you long enough to know it’s more than that,” Ferria replied.
