Riven does not walk to the infirmary. He is carried.
Two warriors lift him carefully, trying not to jostle the shredded fabric or the raw wounds torn across his torso. His head lolls forward once before Leah lunges and steadies it with trembling hands.
“I can do it,” she snaps, voice cracking on the last word.
One of the warriors looks to Nathan for guidance. Nathan nods firmly. “Let her stay close. But move fast.”
Leah walks right beside them, fingers hovering near Riven’s arm like she is ready to snatch him out of their grip at the first sign of danger. Or maybe the first sign of him slipping away again. Her movements are jerky, restless, like every instinct she has is fighting to keep him close while every rational part of her brain is screaming for answers she does not have yet.
S
