Cassian’s words from my afternoon in the infirmary come back to me, and they give me the strength I need to find my center. To cast as if Ian’s life depends on it.
Because it does.
After I’ve cast every spell Doc taught me, I cast the strongest strength sigil I can, and his thrashing lessens. But it’s not enough.
Saints, I pray, please, please let my magic be enough. I won’t survive if he doesn’t…
Doc bursts into the room and kneels at Ian’s side, taking his pulse while her scribe whips through the air. She casts an advanced spell, and I can only guess its purpose as I catch some sigils and miss others.
“Magically induced coma,” she explains.
His eyes flick up to mine, glassy with tears, and he holds my gaze until his eyes roll back in his head, lids fluttering shut.
Doc conducts a cursory examination, letting me cling to him the whole time. I stroke his hair and press kisses to his beautiful, wan face.
“What happened here?” the diminutive healer demands. “I’ve never seen a strongeragoniaspell. The only person here who could cast a spell this strong is?—”
“Professor Cadigan,” I choke out, feeling my own tears spill down my cheeks. “He did this. He’s with the Soldiers of Saint Aldous.”
“No,” Mai murmurs. “Impossible. He would never… he wouldn’t…” She slumps, sitting back on her heels. “He did, didn’t he?”
I nod solemnly, brushing a lock of dark hair from Ian’s brow. “I had a vision and I… I ran like hell.”
“You saved his life, Juniper. If you hadn’t acted how and when you did, his heart would have given out from anagoniaspell that strong.”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the fresh tears that threaten to spill. “He’s going to live?”
“He’s going to live.”
I let the tears fall, hot against my skin, as I thank every single saint I can name.
* * *
By the graceof the saints, many of the injured students have recovered enough to return to their dorms.
Jace and Connor still keep guard outside the infirmary nest, but Cassian shoves them out of the way and runs toward me, taking me into his arms.
“I should have been there with you,” he whispers, fisting his hands in my sweater and pulling me close. But he was, in a way. He was in my thoughts, giving me strength when I needed it most.
Doc guides Marcus to a bed at the back of the ward, and my honor guard gently lies Ian down on it. Doc yanks a curtain closed around the bed, and I struggle in Cassian’s arms, needing to go to my injured alpha.
“Let me go!” I hiss.
“Let Doc work, love,” Cassian murmurs.
I break apart in his arms, my tears coming hard and fast as the reality of the situation finally hits me. “She had to put him into a coma.”
Simon comes up behind me, crushing me into a hug, chin on my shoulder.
“It’s Ian,” Cassian says quietly, and Simon nods against me.
“Cadigan hexed him,” I sob, soaking Cassian’s shirt with my tears. But he only holds me tighter.
Simon’s arms snake around my waist and between the two of them, they keep me from falling to a million pieces right in the middle of the infirmary.
I weep until my head aches, and they hold me, their bodies impossibly warm and strong around mine. I sink into their heat, into their comfort, until I’m hollowed out and numb. Until I have no more tears left to cry.
Doc doesn’t emerge from behind the curtain for over an hour. When she does, she looks worn, exhausted, deep lines creasing her brow, sweat frizzing the fine hairs at her temples.
