When I woke, it wasn't my friend or my rival waiting. It was him.
The infirmary was dark. Night had fallen while I'd been sleeping, the only light coming from a small lamp in the corner that cast long shadows across the pale green walls. The building was quiet except for the soft hum of medical equipment and my own breathing. Somewhere down the hall, a clock ticked with mechanical precision, each second marked by a soft click that echoed in the stillness. The air smelled of antiseptic and clean linen, with an underlying scent of herbs—wolfsbane and valerian, probably, the standard remedies Mrs. Chen used to help shifters heal faster.
I'd fallen back asleep after Celeste left. Mrs. Chen had given me something for the exhaustion, and it had pulled me under like a tide. The medication had left a bitter taste in my mouth, coating my tongue with something vaguely medicinal that I couldn't quite swallow away.
But now I was awake again. And I wasn't alone.
