Celes blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
"I didn't cook much," she mumbled, her voice flat.
"How was your stay at the Healer?" Andros asked, his voice laced with faux concern. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone."
Celes felt a surge of anger but quickly buried it.
"I'm still sleepy," she said, turning away from him. "You should take a bath."
Andros nodded, clearly sensing her coldness. "I'll join you soon," he said, trying to sound reassuring.
Celes didn't bother to reply. As she closed her eyes, she reprimanded herself for not asking him what he was doing with Szarina and her child at the Healer's when she was having a miscarriage, nor where he had been today. The foreign scent on him was unmistakable. She felt a deep sense of betrayal but was too exhausted to confront him. Instead, she let the darkness of sleep pull her under, a temporary escape from the pain that had become her constant companion.
The next morning, Celes was awoken by the howls of wolves in the distance. She had grown accustomed to the pack's rituals, but today the howls seemed different, more mournful. It was as if the entire forest was grieving, their sorrow echoing through the trees.