Eventine smiled. “Have you been in to see him yet?”
Rowan shook her head. “Wade said to wait for you.”
Eventine nodded. “I’m ready if you are.”
They got the attention of the males and the group of them walked up the steps to the second floor. Trevor pointedthem down the hall to a door that hung ajar. Eventine was in front and she went in the room first.
The room featured a bed on one side and a desk with surrounding bookshelves on the other, and two windows set in the far wall. Boeson, thefoxenwho’d escaped the Pravus, lay on the bed covered with a blanket, looking withered and thin, his eyes closed. Near him on the bed were several stacks of books.
Remington sat in a chair near the head of the bed, wearing reading glasses, his face in a thick textbook. He saw Eventine and put the book down. He stood, took off his glasses, and nodded at her. He had a neat goatee, wore dark slacks and a blue button-up jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and a stethoscope around his shoulders, a vintage watch on his left arm. His short reddish hair was neatly styled, and he had a tiny earring in his right ear. He folded his hands and watched as they all filed into the room, Trent and Rowan going around to stand on one side of the bed, while Eventine stayed near the door, and Trevor and Wade moved near the side wall.
On the bed, Boeson murmured like he was talking in his sleep. His head turned on the pillow forward and back.
Remington spoke to Eventine inruhi. The end is close for him. It could be a day, a week, or a month, I have no way of knowing. It won’t be more than a month.
Eventine nodded. “Boeson,” she said, addressing the male on the bed.
No response.
She took his hand. It was slack and cold. “Boeson, I’m Eventine Mundelein.”
He didn’t open his eyes or acknowledge her, but his grip strengthened the smallest bit.
Remington shook his head. “He hasn’t responded to me in a while.
Eventine pulled over a chair and sat, still holding Boeson’s hand. She looked up at Remington. “Can he?”
“Sure, he’s lucid when he’s awake.” He looked around at all the males, then Eventine and Rowan standing at the bedside. “What’s going on?”
“This is about the power he’s holding.”
Remington nodded. “Ah yes, when he dies, no one quite knows what will happen, do they?”
“Right.”
Remington stroked his chin. “Maybe someone else can hold it.”
Eventine nodded. “That’s why we’re here. Does he have arenqua?”
“Of course not.” Wade snapped.
Remington looked sharply at Wade, his face lined with disapproval, then spoke to Eventine. “He’s got a scar where one would be.”
On the bed, Boeson’s eyes opened, focused on Eventine. “Only afoxencan hold this power, mistress.” His eyes closed.
“Is there some other way?” Eventine asked, cupping his hand with both of hers, rubbing them, hoping to keep him awake.
“My sister,” he said, his voice frail and breaking, not opening his eyes. “She fashioned a vessel that could carry the power… she hid it for a time…”
He didn’t speak for several moments. Eventine didn’t prompt him.
Remington put his stethoscope in his ears, moving Boeson’s blanket to touch it to his chest. For the first time, Eventine saw his mark, the cruel claw marks cutting through fragile flesh, as if the wound had been delivered today. Eventine winced, shaking her head.
Boe stirred. “… but the vessel is in the Pravus.”
“I was afraid of that.” Eventine motioned to Rowan that she should try to see if she could take the power.
Rowan nodded. She took her pendant out of her pocket and held, then took Boeson’s hand with her free hand.
