Chapter 167 - An Insult to Silver Talon

Two days had passed in a haze of shadows and vague dreams, but Arman woke up as the afternoon sun streamed through the stone walls of the ward. He was softly roused by the warmth of the beams as they touched his face. His muscles ached and protested from being bedridden as he tried to get up, blinking and cringing at the brightness spilling over the bed. He pondered how long he had been in this condition when he saw a little bundle of flowers wilting next to him in a porcelain vase, their petals shriveling and losing color. Arman groaned as he attempted to reconstruct what had transpired. His mind flashed through hazy, fragmented memories. He recalled needing to be alone, withdrawing into the night's silence, and then, something, no, someone, perhaps a shadow. But, the memories escaped his grasp, leaving behind only a slight feeling of fear. Unsteady on his feet, Arman swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, he stumbled, grasping for a neighboring table for balance a