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of water set beside the bed. Aedion was
instantly in motion, filling a cup.
But as her fingers closed around it, she
noted their color, their shape.
Her own hands. Her own arm.
“You ... shifted,” Aedion said, noting her
widened eyes. “While the healer was sewing
up your leg. I think the pain ... You shifted
back into this body.”
Horror, roaring and nauseating, roiled
through her. “How many saw?” Her first
words, each as rough and dry as sandpaper.
“Don’t worry about it.”
She gulped down the water. “They all
know?”
A solemn nod.
“What did you tell them—about Aelin?”
“That she has been off on a vital quest with
Rowan and the others. And that it is so secret
we do not dare speak of it.”