"What? It seemed that you were not happy to see your father." General Odin's voice carried a hint of disbelief.
Asael clenched his jaw, his body stiff from his injuries. "It's not that. Where is Kane?"
From the entrance of the infirmary, Kane stepped in followed by Alaric and Bener.
"Asael, it's good that you're awake." Lara's voice was steady, but her hands moved with practiced efficiency as she reached for the metal canteen hanging from the central pole that supported the tent. The liquid inside—a mixture of boiled water, sugar, and dissolved medicinal herbs—was meant to accelerate healing and stave off hunger and infection.
She knelt beside him, offering the canteen. "You need to drink up. Your internal injuries are not healed yet, so you can only take liquid for now. No solid food."
Asael took the canteen, but his gaze lingered on her, looking aggrieved. Why did she revert to calling him Asael?
Not brother.
