The roar of the crowd faded slowly, like a storm retreating into the mountains.
Selene drifted in and out of awareness, her body heavy, every nerve singing with pain. She was vaguely aware of warmth around her, strong arms lifting her from the stone, a familiar scent cutting through the haze.
Smoke. Pine. Iron.
Silas.
She focused on that as he carried her through the courtyard, past wolves who had once looked at her with contempt and now watched in stunned silence.
No one reached for her.
No one dared.
By the time he laid her down on the wide bed in his chambers, her limbs trembled uncontrollably. He stripped away the bloodstained cloth with careful hands, his jaw tight, eyes dark with barely restrained fury.
"You should not have survived that," he said quietly.
Selene managed a weak smile. "Disappointing them is becoming a habit."
