Lena’s POV
In the healer's chambers, time meant nothing. I took my seat next to Lucien’s bed, his chest rising and falling with heavy heaves, each breath leaving me counting the beats of his heart as if it could possibly be his last. The poison had envenomed his whole system now and even to the touch, his skin was gray and cold with clammy sweat; he seemed no more than a shell — fighting against defeat in vain.
“His temperature is rising once more,” the old healer said as he placed a cool cloth upon his forehead. "We're losing him."
“No,” I said, and squeezed his hand harder. "He's stronger than this. He has to be."
But even as I said it, I could feel our mate bond thinning, becoming more brittle. That strong, steady cord which had once blazed between them was a mere shadow of what it
