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GLYNDON It hurts. That’s the first thought that comes to mind when I open my eyes—or more accurately, my eye. The other one feels swollen and remains half-shut. It isn’t only my flesh that aches. The pain has ripped through tendons and reached the marrow of my bones. My tongue stays glued to the roof of my mouth, feeling big, heavy, and absolutely foreign. I expect to find myself on the top of that cliff, but soft light greets me, followed by the very distinctive scent of amber wood. Sure enough, the impersonal wallpaper from Killian’s room slowly comes into focus. “Glyn?” Bran’s concerned face comes into view. “How are you feeling?” “In pain,” I groan. “Here, have some painkillers.” He fetches a pill from the nightstand and helps me sit up to take it. My head throbs as I swallow down the medication. Bran sits down on the bed and his movements are foggy, disconnected almost. “I was so worried about you.” He carefully touches my arm. “Do you need anything?” I shake my head, feeling the