Luther groaned, the kind of groan that could probably rattle the rafters, as he collapsed onto the couch in the room the group had prepared for them. A "sleepover," if anyone dared call it that, felt more like a command center in a slightly chaotic hotel. Through the window, the town was a mess. Buildings ruined in the earlier explosion were now being pulled apart by townsfolk, while their knights patrolled stoically, either to help or to ensure no one got any bright ideas about looting the rubble.
Luther shifted uncomfortably, coughing lightly, which Alina immediately interpreted as a near-death crisis.
"Here," she said, appearing as if from thin air, holding a glass of water. "Drink. And no fainting, okay? We don't have time for dramatics."
"Dramatics?" Luther muttered, dryly. "I was going to see how far a cough could get me in life. This is all highly experimental."
Aithur raised an eyebrow. "Experimental? You mean reckless. Big difference."
