Chapter 44: Ignore
>>Ariston
I woke up to the distinct ache of phantom pain rippling through my body. My head throbbed as if someone had taken a hammer to it, and the dull, radiating soreness made me groan as I tried to shift. Every muscle protested as I moved, and the memory of being crushed flooded back like a cruel nightmare.
"Careful!" a voice came, sharp but not unkind. I felt hands on me, steadying me as I attempted to sit up.
I didn’t bother looking at who it was, too dazed to care, and let them help me upright. My throat was dry, like I’d swallowed an entire desert. "Water," I rasped, my voice hoarse and barely audible.
The other guy—whoever he was—immediately moved to the table. I heard the faint clink of a jug being lifted, followed by the sound of liquid pouring into a glass.
While he busied himself, I blinked against the blurry haze clouding my vision, waiting for the room to stop swimming. After what felt like an eternity, my mind steadied enough for me to take stock of my surroundings.
I frowned.
This wasn’t my room.
The walls were far too ornate, lined with carvings and tapestries that looked too expensive for any normal person. The air smelled faintly of incense, and the furnishings were far grander than anything I’d ever call my own. My frown deepened as I glanced down, taking in the elaborate blanket draped over me. Even the bed beneath me was softer than anything I’d ever slept on.
Before I could puzzle over it further, a glass of water appeared in front of me. I turned my head to the side, my scowl firmly in place.
Drakkar.