Lucien forced himself out of bed and downed the last bottle of medicine Levina had left for him. He had no idea what the medicine was made of; all he knew was that the bitter liquid was keeping him alive and relieving most of his pain. He stood to his feet and hobbled outside. He hadn't left the tent for two days now, and the room was beginning to feel like a stuffy prison. He needed some fresh air.
Thankfully, the sun was tucked away between clouds, making the heat less fierce. The camp was not as crowded as before, mostly because the soldiers had marched to Valoria, leaving behind the sick, injured, and some guards to patrol the grounds.
Lucien grunted, clutching his side with his hand. Every step he took was torture, but he continued.
