Chapter 59: His Savior
Alaric’s eyelids fluttered, his gaze turning glassy as exhaustion clawed at him.
Lara blinked, and when she looked again, she saw that the soldier had fallen fast asleep.
Relief washed over her like a wave. He was finally asleep. It must just be his reflexes, right? With injuries like that and without anesthesia, how could one remain conscious?
Unbeknownst to her, pain had been the only thing tethering Alaric to wakefulness. Now, he let himself slip into feigned slumber, waiting for her to lower her guard.
Fatigue gnawed at Lara as well. She pulled a thin mat from the shelf and lay down beside the bed, close enough to hear his breathing. If anything happened, she needed to be near him. His injuries were too severe to leave him unattended.
As silence settled, Alaric’s eyes cracked open. Moonlight cut through the dim room, casting shadows along the walls. He lifted the rough blanket draped over his body, feeling the firm tug of bandages wrapped neatly around his abdomen. He was half naked. His arms and chest, once raw with scrapes, were now smeared with a cooling ointment.
Who is this woman?
His mind drifted in and out of clarity, but one thought remained sharp—her hands, steady and skilled, had treated his wounds with precision surpassing even the most skilled imperial physicians.
He wanted to shift, to see her more clearly, but his body felt like it had been crushed beneath a mountain. His muscles refused to obey him.
Perhaps the medicine had begun to work, dulling the relentless pain. His breathing slowed, his limbs growing heavy. He surrendered to the call of sleep.
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