The hours crawled. Tyler drifted in and out, sometimes groaning, sometimes shivering so violently I had to hold him down. Sage and Quinley worked in silence, cleaning his wounds with whatever rags they could find, whispering soft spells that dulled some of the bleeding but never sealed it completely. He wasn’t healing the way I thought he would.
Alaric stayed slumped against the wall, one hand clamped to his side, his shirt soaked through and black with blood. His breathing was shallow, ragged, his jaw set in a grim line. He didn’t seem to be healing either.
Finally, I couldn’t ignore it. My throat burned when I asked, “Why aren’t they healing?”
The room stilled. Sage’s hands faltered. She glanced at Alaric, then at Tyler, who lay heavy and unmoving in my lap.
Sage’s brows furrowed. “W
