CARDAN MONTESSORI
To live or to die?
“Say that again.”
I didn’t recognize my own voice.
It came out flat. Cold. The kind of cold that silences a battlefield.
Master Roul blinked at me, clearly startled by the edge in my tone. He adjusted the collar of his robe like it was suddenly choking him.
“I said,” he repeated, slower this time, “she’s suffering from something far worse than I initially feared.”
I stared at him, but my fists had already clenched at my sides.
“What do you mean, worse?”
He exhaled. “There’s an infection in her blood. Old. Deep. Probably magical. It’s decaying her from the inside out. Not fast, but steady. The concoctions are helping—for now—but…”
“But what?”
“They won’t heal her,” he said plainly. “They can only slow it.”
“No,” I muttered. “No, you will hea
