Mitchell POV
"Move, Mitchell," Adriel says.
His voice is raw. I look up as he steps out of Betty's chamber. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen, the rims a dark, bruised red. He has been crying. The absolute vulnerability of it makes something sick twist in my stomach.
I don't say a word about it. I pretend I don't see the dampness on his cheeks.
"She can hear us now," Adriel whispers, his hand slamming onto my shoulder. "Love fixed the link. Go in."
"Right," I say.
I pull him into a hard, brief hug. His frame feels tense under my arms. He releases me, forces a pathetic excuse for a smile, and gives me a sharp nod.
I turn the brass handle. The heavy timber door clicks open.
The air inside the room smells of sterile herbs and fading magic. Betty lies in the centre of the massive bed,
