IRENE*****Consciousness returned slowly, like swimming up through thick, murky water. The first thing I felt was the deep, tender ache in my skin, a burning rawness everywhere. Then, the sharper, throbbing pain on my cheek. Memory followed—the slam of the door, Seraphina’s furious face, the harsh scrape of the brush, the scalding water, the sting of her slap.A whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it.“You’re safe.”The voice was low, gentle, familiar. Not Dante’s.I forced my eyes open. The room was dim, clinical. A hospital room. And sitting in a chair beside the bed, looking pale and tired but alert, was Rowan.“Rowan?” My voice was a dry croak. “What… how did I get here?”“I found you,” he said simply. He reached for a glass of water with a straw and held it to my lips. I drank gratefully, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat. “In the garden. You were in a bad way. I brought you straight here.”The memory of collapsing by the kitchen herbs, shivering and humiliated, flo
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