Aeliana exhaled sharply and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Sitting here—brooding—would accomplish nothing. It reminded her too much of those long days spent trapped in this very room, too weak to even stand, too fragile to even consider stepping beyond the suffocating walls of her chamber.
But she wasn't sick anymore.
She had her strength back. Her body was no longer a prison.
And she would enjoy that.
Her clothes were already appropriate for the occasion—after all, she had just returned from speaking with her father. No need to change. No need to delay. She rose from the bed, smoothing out the slight wrinkles in her gown before striding toward the door.
