Marcus' POV
Naomi was still asleep. Her breathing had steadied sometime after midnight, and though the healer claimed she'd wake by dawn, I couldn’t stop staring at her pale face which, for some reason, was paler than usual. Almost white. I sat still, my breath held, waiting for the smallest sign that she’d open her eyes and make a sarcastic remark or complain about the sheets.
But nothing.
I sat by her side, elbows on knees, hands clasped, every few seconds glancing at the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing was easier now. Not great, not like herself, but better. The healer had said her spiritual tether was still fragile. She said she would wake fully by dawn as long as no one disturbed her. "Her spiritual tether is like glass right now," she'd said. . That had to count
