Then he’s gone, and it’s just me and Torric again.
I reach for the broth, hands shaking slightly. Torric doesn’t comment, just shifts closer like he’s ready to catch the bowl if I drop it.
I don’t drop it.
The warmth settles in my stomach, grounding me.
“What about—”
I stop.
A memory slams into me without warning.
The creature charging.
Kieran stepping in front of me.
The impact—bone against muscle, air punching from his lungs.
The sound of his body hitting the tree.
The crack.
The crack from the tree keeps echoing in my head.
My breath shudders.
“Kieran,” I whisper.
Torric’s face shifts. Subtle. But I see it.
“He’s alive,” he says carefully. “He’s… not great. He won’t admit how bad the hit was.”
My stomach drops.
“Where is he?”
“Kaia—”
“Where?”
Torric hesitates. “Next room. Resting. Or supposed to be.” He exhales. “He’s conscious. Just… don’t let him pretend he’s fine.”
I put the broth down and push the blankets off, ignoring the way my ribs protest.
“Kaia, wait—”
“I need to see him.”
Torric stands, blocking my path without actually blocking it. “You can barely stand.”
“I don’t care.”
Bob shifts position, edges softening like he’s debating whether to help me or stop me.
Mouse lifts his head, tail flicking once.
Torric studies my face for a long moment. Then he sighs.
