The scent of sandalwood clung to the chamber like a ghost, a stark contrast to the hint of lavender usually found in the Eastern Chamber.
When she opened her eyes, the fever had finally loosened its grip just enough for her to finally breathe without feeling like she was drowning. She tried to sit up, but her body remained heavy, and she fell back against the mattress.
Her limbs still felt like wet cloth, but the burning fire of the fever had ebbed into a slow burn rather than the inferno that had tormented her for hours. For once, she hadn't woken to a pain so sharp it made her see stars.
How could a mere nineteen-year-old endure all this?
Silver's heart ached at the thought of Hiraya.
The room was quiet, the faint crackle of the hearth was the only sound.
Silver glanced around. Natasha had probably left to deliver the letters to her father.
