Circe lay curled beneath the thick covers, her body drawn tight as another wave of pain pulsed low and sharp through her abdomen.
She exhaled shakily, willing the ache to ebb, but it only kept throbbing, tightening her muscles until she had no choice but to squeeze her eyes shut. The room was dim, the heavy curtains drawn, and the lit hearth radiated a kind of dull warmth throughout that was normally comforting. But now, amid her discomfort, it was merely something she registered through a haze.
She barely heard the door open and a second later, it was followed by the soft click of it latching shut.
There was a soft shuffle as someone entered the room, their footsteps no more than soft thuds in the quiet room. Whoever it was, they were no doubt staring at Circe, who looked like a lumpy figure beneath the covers.
When she stopped hearing the sound of footsteps, she peeled the covers off her head enough to glance around the room.
