Flashback ( PDFDrive )

TWENTY-SEVEN
FITZ DIDN’T CHECK IN THAT night.
Sophie hadn’t really expected him to—or that was what she told
herself—since she knew he’d be busy dealing with the return of his
nefarious brother.
But she still spent the rest of her day staring at her Imparter,
wishing it would light up with his face. Or hoping his crisp, accented
voice would flood into her mind and tell her how everything was going
—and not just because she missed him way more than she should, or
because she was worried about how he was handling everything.
It . . . wasn’t easy sitting in the same boring cot surrounded by the
same boring walls while this huge, monumental thing was happening
without her.
“One more night,” Elwin kept telling her every time he brought
another elixir for her to swallow or coated her arm in another smelly
balm.
Around the fourth or fifth treatment, she finally asked, “And then
what?”
It was the question she’d been avoiding, not wanting to hear how
much recovery she still had ahead.
And it was not good news.
More rest.
More elixirs.