Chapter 39: Cyran

Lilia POV

The smell of freshly killed meat awakened Lilia.

She stretched out her hands in either direction and encountered soft bedding. It did NOT feel like Dane’s bed. It felt wrong. Terribly wrong.

Her eyes opened. The light in the room stabbed her eyes, reflecting off hundreds of glass surfaces. She sat up, rubbing her aching head, and looked at the only other occupant of the high-ceilinged room, who stood close to the bed and smiled at her.

Her own voice sounded very flat to her ears. “Who … are … you?”

He approached, the brilliant lights from all the crystal globes shining on him, gleaming on his white-blond hair. He stood in some sort of loose bodysuit, very elegant. “How is your head? I asked the healers to treat it before you woke up.”

Her voice remained emotionless. “Where am I?”

He sighed and held out a cup of something warm and strong-smelling. “Drink this, it will help.”

She scooted away from him, her eyes wary. “You haven’t answered my questions.”