Amelia was alone when her eyes creaked open. The spot beside hers where Conroy had usually lain was empty and the loose poultry feathers used for pillows felt as hard as stone beneath her head.

　　Her heart ached as she lay unyieldingly on the pallet.

　　She subconsciously took her hand to her almost flat belly. White strips of linen crisscrossed her abdomen and shoulder, the gauze almost as pale as her skin.

　　Her black hair was disheveled, her small, ...