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I checked the time and stared at the display.
Almost nine hours.
Somehow, I had slept almost nine hours.
My body apparently believed it even if my brain didn’t. When I sat up, nothing actually hurt. I just felt exhaustion packed deep enough that one night couldn’t fix it.
The door chimed.
I froze automatically before catching myself.
Old habits.
A woman’s voice came from the other side. “Miss Mercer?”
Staff. Not Review. Not Veil.
I exhaled. “Yes?”
“I have clothing and food for you, if you are awake.”
I looked down at myself. I had fallen asleep in the loose shirt the royal medical staff gave me after taking away my bloodstained clothes.
Veyr’s blood.
The memory came back too easily—his body hitting the transport floor, silver-white ŭre crawling around torn flesh, his pulse under my fingers, his eyes opening when I had started wondering whether they would again.
I pushed the images down.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and an older Zunatorian woman entered carrying a stack of folded clothing. Pale gray skin, dark hair threaded with silver, calm expression.
No weapon. That alone felt unusual now.
She placed the clothing on a bench. “Prince Anik instructed that you be given whatever you require.”
“Whatever?”
Her face remained perfectly composed. “Within reason.”
“That sounds safer.”
One corner of her mouth moved.
Good. I liked her already.
She gestured toward the clothing. “Practical garments.”
Dark pants. Soft cropped shirt. Boots.
Nothing ceremonial and nothing chosen because someone thought it would make me look more acceptable before the Crown. Just clothes.
“Thank you.”
She inclined her head. “There is food in the sitting room. Or you may join the Crown Prince’s mate for midday meal later, if you prefer.”
I blinked. “Ryleigh?”
