At dawn, Seraphina sat at the edge, her knees pulled to her chest. She hadn’t slept. Each time she shut her eyes, she saw the stranger’s hooded face, her own reflection in the water, and the mask stuck to her skin.
Behind her, Dane groans. She turned quickly.
He blinked up at her, his eyes hot with fever. “Where..” His voice broke.
Don’t speak.” She knelt quickly and brushed his damp hair from his forehead. His skin was wet with sweat. The wound at his side was closed, smooth but ridged, as if the flesh had been burned shut.
Killian came closer, his arms crossed. “He should be dead. Wounds like that don’t close in a single night.”
“It was the stranger’s doing,” Liora muttered, her voice thick with distaste. She’d been pacing since dawn, dark circles under her eyes. “I can’t even tell
