When Hermi opened her eyes again, it was not because of the stinging heat of the wine. A cooling sensation now blanketed her searing wound, paired with the refreshing chill of a soaked cloth pressed firmly over her forehead.
Cassian must have applied the cooling salve and attempted to keep the fever from cooking her brain with cold water, Hermi thought dully. She vaguely recalled seeing a jar of ointment, and a stack of linens in the medical tray the knight had delivered.
She tried to force her eyes open, but her eyelids remained a leaden weight. The moment she made the slightest wince, Cassian's voice drifted through the dim light.
"Do not try to force yourself. You have more need for rest right now than for seeing my magnificent profile."
The arrogant comment made all her desire to wake up incinerate instantly. Keeping her eyes perfectly shut, Hermi muttered, "What have you done with my wound?"
