The master suite felt different that evening. The clinical smell of the in-house infirmary had been replaced by the scent of fresh lilies, brought in by Zoya. Amyra was propped up on a mountain of pillows, her bruised hip still aching, but her heart feeling strangely light yet incredibly heavy at the same time.

There was a soft knock on the door, and before Amyra could answer, Zoya bounced in. She had changed into a pair of oversized pajamas and was carrying a tray of chocolate cupcakes.