*Lucien*
My brain is made of wool.
I must have passed out at some point between filling the emptiness deep inside me with Lucien's blood and spasming against him, because my eyes drift open and I am swaddled in what feels like a cloak, my cheeks pressed against a hard wall of heat, tucked in tight by strong arms that hold firmly.
My lashes flutter.
Blood.
The Silvermoor castle is painted red. There are bodies strewn this way and that and our soldiers flanking us.
"Good to see you again, Your Grace."
My head lolls left and I see Trenton's dark eyes. There's a slash running along his neck. Someone must have gotten close enough to nearly decapitate him. I try to ask if he's alright but my mouth feels like it's been muzzled. Every bone in my body hurts. Even breathing feels like a chore.
"Leave her alone," Lucien snaps. "Stop looking at her like that."
"But she looks--"
"Shut the fuck up."
