"Elara?" Serena asked, eyes opening to a blurred outline of a face.
"Serena! You're awake!" Elara surged to her feet and threw herself into a hug.
Pain flared through Serena's ribs and side, sharp enough to steal her breath, but she did not make a sound. She wrapped one arm around Elara anyway, holding her as tightly as she could manage.
"I'm sorry I ran," Elara said, the words tumbling out. "I should have stayed. I should have—"
"No. You did exactly what I told you to do," Serena interrupted. "Please do not apologize. I am just relieved you made it."
Elara nodded, tears bright in her eyes.
A presence shifted near the doorway.
"Drink both of these," a man said calmly as he crossed the room. "They will help with your recovery."
He handed Serena a small jar filled with opaque white liquid and set another on the bedside table. Under normal circumstances, Serena would not have touched it.
But at the moment, her mouth felt like sand, and her throat burned with thirst.
She emptied the first jar and immediately reached for the second, swallowing greedily.
"I am Alaric Kestrel," the man said as he gently examined her wrists and neck. "Head Healer of Drakenfell."
His eyes tracked her pulse, her breathing, the faint marks left behind by silver.
"Serena Silverveil," he said. Not a question. "Eighteen. Restrained in silver for close to a year."
Serena glanced at Elara.
Alaric did not follow her gaze.
"You should not be alive," he said flatly. "Recovery will be slow. Your wolf will not answer you yet."
Serena frowned slightly. "My wolf?"
In truth, she had never shifted. She had accepted long ago that whatever wolf she was born with had been burned out of her.
"When the wolf dies, the person dies with it. You are alive, which means so is your wolf."
Something fragile and dangerous stirred in Serena's chest.
Hope.
Alaric crossed his arms and tilted his head, studying her more closely.
"You look as dangerous as a startled lamb," he said dryly. "Why would someone chain you in silver?"
Serena hesitated. She did not usually share information so easily, but something in his expression told her he already knew the answer.
"I tried to escape," she said quietly. "Twice."
Alaric's expression darkened.
"Viremont then," he asked.
"Yes," Serena replied.
When Alaric finished his examination and left the room, Serena sat in silence for a moment, letting the door close behind him.
She became acutely aware of herself then. Of the dried blood on her skin. Of the grime ground into her hands and hair.
"I need to wash," she said quietly.
Elara rose from her chair at once, to prepare a bath. "I will help you."
Serena looked at her, taking in a sharp breath.
"You don't have a say. I am helping," Elara said before Serena could protest.
The bathing chamber was attached to the room, designed for comfort. Steam rose gently from the basin, the water already prepared.
Elara moved with quiet efficiency, closing the door behind them and helping Serena remove the ruined clothing piece by piece. She worked carefully, avoiding Serena's injuries.
Serena braced herself against the stone as Elara supported her into the basin. The heat of the water made her legs tremble, and Elara tightened her grip until the weakness passed.
"Slowly," Elara murmured. "I have you."
The water clouded almost immediately.
Elara washed Serena methodically. She worked the blood from Serena's arms and shoulders and gently rinsed her hair until the water ran clear again.
When it was done, Elara helped her out and wrapped her in clean towels, adjusting them with the same care she had always used.
"You look like hell," Elara said, grinning.
Serena huffed, grinning back. "Still better-looking than you."
Elara snorted softly as she helped dry Serena's hair. "Bold words for someone who spent the last year as haunted decor."
Serena laughed at that. "You missed me."
"I missed arguing with you," Elara said. "The silence was unbearable."
Elara grabbed a garment from the bench. A full-body training suit, dark red and black, made of thick, flexible fabric reinforced at the joints. The Drakenfell insignia was stitched small and unobtrusive at the shoulder.
It was identical to the one she was wearing.
"Alaric brought us these," Elara said with a small shrug. "Extra clothing they keep on hand for warriors."
Serena ran her fingers over the material, noting the weight of it, the way it was designed for movement.
Elara helped her step into it carefully, guiding the fabric over Serena's arms and legs and smoothing it into place. When Serena was settled, Elara moved behind her and drew the zipper up the length of her spine, stopping neatly at the collar.
The suit fitted loose, though it was supposed to be tight. It was warm without being heavy.
"There," she said. "You look like yourself again. Less corpse. More menace."
Serena caught her wrist before she could move away. Her grip was light, but deliberate.
"Thank you," she said, quieter now. "For staying."
Elara squeezed her hand once. Firm. Certain.
"Always," she said. "You are stuck with me. I checked. There is no cure."
Elara handed Serena a floor length crimson cloak, matching the training suit. Identical to the one she had.
Alaric entered again, sighing.
"If you are going to insist on standing," he said mildly, already turning toward the door, "then you may as well see where you are."
Serena blinked at him in surprise and fell into step beside Elara as they followed him out into the corridor.
"Aren't you busy?" she asked.
Alaric glanced back at her, one brow lifting slightly. "Ordinarily, yes."
He continued walking.
"However," he added, "Prince Dexmon personally retrieved you from the forest twice, and I have very clear instructions that you were not to be left unattended until you were properly oriented."
At the words Prince Dexmon, Serena's foot caught on the edge of a runner.
She pitched forward before she could stop herself.