Chapter 6: The Dignity of Refusal

Consciousness returned not as a gentle dawn, but as a slow, painful reassembly of shattered pieces. I was lying on something soft—a bed. The rough, familiar texture of my own wool blanket was beneath my cheek. The scent of dried herbs and wood smoke filled the air. My cottage. How had I gotten here? The memory of the square, of Selena’s venomous smile and the cold, hard impact of the cobblestones, flooded back. Along with it came the full, crushing weight of the bond sickness. A fever burned...