The gentle gray light of the new day painted Kael's chamber as first-light entered across his bed casting long shadows over his propped body on a pillow under bandaging, breathing even but shallow. I padded into the room, holding a cup of hot moon‐tea spiced with healing herbs. His storm-grey eyes opened and he heard my footfalls.
"Morning," I whispered, taking a seat at the edge of his bed and pushing aside silver hair that had fallen across his forehead.
He gifted me a weary, lopsided smile. "I had Mara in my dreams last night," he confessed with a gravelly voice. "I dreamed that she was calling me… asking why I didn't go with her."
I put my hand on his cheek. "She knew that we were going to continue her fight. She would never blame you." I handed him the mug. "Drink."
He took the cup in both hands and breathed in steam, then sipped. "Thank you," he murmured. He shut his eyes and rested against the pillows. "I despise lying here… seeing the rest of you continue on with a war."
