The Fallen King's Penitent Soldier (Tales of the High Court Book 5) by Megan Derr

Author:Megan Derr [Derr, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-03-28T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Desmond woke with a splitting headache, but he seemed to wake up that way all the time now, even when he just took a nap—which he also seemed to do a lot now. The healers assured him that was standard during recovery, but he still felt like a pathetic wastrel sleeping away his days while everyone else worked.

Sighing, he sat up enough in bed to take his morning tonics, then settled into the blankets again until the worst of his headache eased. When he could stand without wanting to throw up, he slowly crossed the short distance to his dressing room. Thankfully, his clothes didn't require assistance at the moment. All of that would invariably come later. For the moment, though, they'd been kind enough to give him clothes he could manage on his own.

The injuries he'd taken had required shaving his head, which he hated, but better to be alive with a nearly bald head than dead with pretty hair. He hadn't even known he'd gotten a head wound. Then again, he didn't remember much of anything. Pain. Killing. More pain. He hazily remembered waking up while the healers were working on him and lots of shouting before they'd sedated him.

That had been a few days ago. He'd only been declared sufficient to heal elsewhere the day before, and still had to check in regularly to ensure his wounds were healing well. Especially the stitches. So many stitches.

He paused before the floor-length mirror in his dressing room to look them over, check for the warning signs of infection. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any. There was redness, but only because there was still a lot of healing to do. None of it was spreading the way it would for infection.

The stitches, the wounds, were lurid though. The bear claws had gotten him right at the cheek and slashed all the way down—thankfully missing his neck, somehow, but getting his shoulder and down his arm, just finger-lengths away from his elbow. He doubted his right arm and shoulder would ever be the same.

He tried not to succumb to vanity, but he couldn't deny the wounds were a blow. His shorn hair didn't help.

He was alive, though.

More importantly, so was Chass. At least, he'd still been holding on the previous night, before Aria and Riker had forced Desmond to go to bed.

Dressing slowly, far more slowly than he would have liked, Desmond pushed his feet into slippers and finally headed out.

A breakfast tray was waiting in the front room of his suite, but his stomach churned at the idea of food. Maybe after he'd been awake for a couple of hours.

Heading out, nodding to the guards outside who immediately fell in alongside and behind him, Desmond slowly made his way through the confusing maze that was Harkenesten Palace. He couldn't find his way anywhere else, yet, but he knew the route between his room and the healing ward.

People stared and whispered as he walked, some not even having the barest courtesy to wait until he was past them.

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