His knees buckle, and he collapses against me, his weight nearly toppling my chair. I catch him as best I can with my newly freed hands, and I feel the fever burning through his skin.
“You’re dying,” I whisper, the realization hitting me instantly. Through our bond, I can feel his life slipping away like sand through my fingers. The incomplete connection has been slowly draining him for weeks, and this battle has pushed him past his breaking point.
“Doesn’t matter,” he murmurs against my neck. “You’re safe. That’s all—”
“It does matter,” I tell him softly. “You matter.”
More royal soldiers pour into the chamber, their voices raised in victory as they take control of the scene. But I barely notice them. All my focus is on the man in my arms, on the way his breathing is becoming increasi
