I'm not grumpy

The infirmary smelled like antiseptic and lavender, an odd mix that somehow managed to be both comforting and unsettling. I sat on the examination bed, my leg propped up on a pillow as one of the healers fussed over me.

The throbbing in my leg had dulled to a manageable ache, but I still couldn't stop wincing every time they pressed too hard on the bruised area. 

"Stop squirming, Rhiannon," Zephara said, her voice firm but laced with a surprising amount of concern.

She was sitting in a chair nearby, arms crossed and an expression that said she was trying to look unimpressed but failing miserably. 

"I'm not squirming," I shot back, though I totally was. "It hurts, okay?" 

Zephara sighed, leaning back in her chair. She looked so composed, so effortlessly regal even in this sterile room.

Her long white hair, caught the light as if it were woven from fire. Her piercing red eyes softened as she watched the healer work on my leg.