Rhydor's POV
Four days, maybe five. I stopped counting when the fire died and I did not get up to restart it.
The cold settled into everything after that. The walls. The desk. The chair I had not left in longer than I wanted to think about. The papers in front of me had not been touched. Reports. Updates. Things that needed answers sat exactly where they had been left, edges curling in the cold air.
My shoulder throbbed.
I pressed my palm flat against it and felt the heat pushing through my shirt. Still spreading. Still burning. Still doing whatever it was doing beneath the skin that none of the healers could explain. It hurt when I moved and sometimes when I did not.
But there was another pain. Deeper. Sitting somewhere in my chest that had nothing to do with the wound.
It started when she walked past me like I was air.
Yes, I knew I didn't call or stop her, and she didn't turn around once.
