Sable had barely slept.
Every time she moved, her back burned where old wounds had reopened before they had been allowed to heal properly.
The cold bath from two nights earlier had settled deep into her joints, and her shoulder throbbed with a dull, grinding ache that refused to fade.
Pain had become constant enough to live beneath everything else, but that morning it carried a sharper edge, as though her body had sensed what her mind had not yet seen.
The knock came before the bell.
Three strikes against her door, carrying command rather than request.
She stood slowly, jaw set against the pull through her ribs, and opened it.
Four warriors waited outside.
"Assembly," one said.
"Now."
Sable stepped into the corridor without argument.
The warriors did not touch her, but they positioned themselves close enough that retreat would have been impossible even if she had tried.
