The next morning came with pale sunlight filtering through the curtains.
Fenris woke up in confusion, his head pounding as if someone had been using it as a punching bag for hours. His whole body ached—his arms, his legs, his chest—but he could not understand why. He had not been in a fight. He had not fallen. So why did he feel like he had been run over by a transport vehicle?
He tried to recall what happened the night before. Fragments came back to him. The party. The toast. His useless wife collapsing, vomiting black blood. The servants carrying her out. Then... nothing. A blank space. And then waking up here, in his own bed.
He felt movement beside him and turned his head, expecting to see Silvia's familiar form.
But the hair was wrong. The ears were wrong.
Fox ears. Auburn hair.
Jinx.
"What the fuck," he muttered to himself, sitting up straight. His heart slammed against his ribs. How was she here? Wasn't she supposed to be dead?
