Sebastian had long since lost track of time.
The cabin smelled of blood, and fever sweat—an awful, cloying mix that clung to the back of his throat no matter how many times he opened the windows. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warmth useless against the chill creeping through Ravyn’s bones.
She lay extremely still now. Sebastian knelt beside the bed, his sleeves already rolled up. With steady hands, he dipped a cloth into the basin of cooled water and wrung it out before gently wiping Ravyn’s neck, her temples, her fraying hands. Her skin burned beneath his touch.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured with a rough voice. “You’re doing amazing, Rae.”
The words were automatic. Instinctive. He’d been saying them for hours, even when she couldn’t hear him, even when she screamed for
