Nora was already moving. Already signaling the medical team to come down from the stands.
Within minutes, Xavier was on a stone table in the medical wing, stripped of the ash and clay, the sigils washed away with cold water that ran red in the basin. Nora worked in silence, her hands steady despite everything that had happened, cleaning the gashes, stitching the wound on his collarbone, wrapping his ribs with careful precision.
Aria stood in the doorway.
She watched the blood wash away. She watched the wounds close under Nora's careful hands. She watched Xavier's face, pale, exhausted, but alive.
He was alive.
She hadn't realized how much she'd been afraid he wouldn't be.
Three hours later, Xavier was sitting on the edge of the stone table, his chest wrapped in clean bandages. Nora h
