The room was heavy with the scent of burnt lamp oil.
Beatrice, the Dowager Duchess, stood by the bed for a moment longer. She looked down at Ashlyn, her face etched with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. She reached out a trembling hand and patted Ashlyn's foot through the thick quilt.
"Rest now," Beatrice whispered, her voice frail. "You have given us a great scare, but also a great blessing. Do not move."
Ashlyn nodded weakly against the pillows. Her face was pale, her hair damp with sweat. She looked small and defenseless.
Carlos stepped forward. He offered his arm to his grandmother. He looked at his wife one last time, his eyes filled with a renewed pride.
"I will walk Grandmother back to her chambers," Carlos said softly to Ashlyn. "I will return shortly. Sleep, my love."
Ashlyn forced a small smile. "Thank you, Carlos."
