The sky was gray by the time the infirmary doors finally creaked open.
Rayne shot to her feet so fast the world tilted. Lucian’s hand instinctively reached out, steadying her by the elbow, but she barely noticed.
A medical staff—with silver hair and specks of blood still staining his gloves—stepped out with a tight expression.
“He’s stable,” she said. “Conscious. Awake.”
Rayne exhaled a sharp, shuddering breath, almost collapsing from the relief.
“Can I see him?”
The medical staff hesitated, then nodded once. “A few minutes. He’s weak and in pain. Don’t agitate him.”
Rayne didn’t need to be told twice.
She slipped inside like a shadow, the heavy door thudding shut behind her.
The infirmary smelled like antiseptic and steel, cold and sterile. But when she turned the corner and saw
