The days bled together like watercolor- soft, muddled, and tinged with exhaustion. Aiden spent the rest of the week confined to the infirmary, where the scent of herbal poultices hung in the air and every creak of the wooden floor signaled either Miss Seacole's sharp approach or the slow arrival of someone coming to see him.
His body was healing, at least physically. The fractured ribs were bound with enchanted wrappings, and his bruises faded gradually beneath glowing salves and healing spells. But it wasn't the pain that hurt the most- it was the silence when no one else was around.
The long hours between visits, when thoughts ran wild and memories played on loop.
But every day, without fail, Adrian and Sevan came.
