THORNE POINT OF VIEW

The room smelled the way healing always did, crushed herbs steeped in warm water, sharp enough to sting the back of my throat. It clung to the air, to the walls, to the skin, like the healers believed scent alone could stitch flesh back together. It reminded me too much of battle tents and bodies laid out in rows.

Aria sat on the bed, wrapped in a thin blanket that did little to hide how tense she was. Her shoulders were stiff, her spine straight, like she was bracing for ...