I come to spitting water and shivering.
Rebekah hefts the bucket, as if considering whether or not to empty the second half over my head. “Are you awake?”
I toss wet hair back out of my eyes. “Now.” A moment of fumbling before I realize my hands and feet are bound, coils of rope holding me fast in a heavy wooden chair. There's no prickle of magic from either chair or rope. Not charmed. Getting loose won't be hard once my magic wakes back up. At the moment it's burning sluggishly. No doubt suppressed by whatever was in that dart.
Rebekah sets the bucket down and pauses to pull a stool out of an awkward stack of furniture.
I look around, trying to get a sense of where we are. Aside from the pile of furniture the room is nearly empty. A battered sofa with a broken leg sits unevenly across the room. A large cloth covered swath on the wall that might be a mirror and a few lights burning sullenly on either side of an empty fireplace.
And it's damned cold.
Rebekah has taken most of my clothes, leaving me clad in trousers and shift – barely enough to keep the chill from shaking me to pieces. Especially now that I'm dripping with water.