"Kgh!" I swallow more coughs. I sniffle, clumsily drinking broth before a blazing fire in one of Prince Aidan's guest rooms. I vaguely remember the carriage ride back, but it's a pain-filled haze, the bench too hard and the clatter too loud.
I'm wrapped in blankets. I don't know why I'm here. Or where anyone is. Is Silva all right? I haven't seen her since…
My head swims.
As if from far away, I hear Aidan arguing with some noblemen. He's saying something about a treaty. His father speaks too, but quietly enough that I can't distinguish any words.
After more undertones, I grimace from a yell.
"Carling's dead! Her heiress inherits the terms!"
Before drifting back asleep, I idly wonder what the noblemen have a problem with…
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