Something in my chest pulls tight and doesn't release.
"You lose things, over the centuries. Slowly enough that you don't mourn them. You just forget they existed." I stare at the far wall. "Warmth was one of them. Sunlight. I stopped missing it because I stopped remembering what it felt like. And then she found me."
I hadn't meant to say that much.
"She's the first thing in a thousand years that's made me remember. Standing next to her feels like standing in a patch of sun used to feel. Before I became this."
Hrolf says nothing for a long moment.
"No wonder you're falling apart," he says gruffly. "Losing the sun twice would break anyone."
Despite everything, something almost like a smile finds me.
The sound of footsteps makes us both look up. Red's quick stride and something lighter. They appear at the cell door. Red and Lady Deirdre.
She stands beside him, carrying a healer's kit and wearing an expression that could freeze flame.
"It's a match," Red says without preamble. "The blood is compatible."
I sag against the wall, unable to speak. The relief hits first. Then the fear behind it, reminding me this isn't over yet.
"What is she doing here?" Hrolf's voice goes hard as granite. "We agreed this stays between the three of us. Guess your word is shit, elf."
"The situation requires it," Lady Deirdre says smoothly, before Red can answer. She sets her healer's kit on the narrow table outside the cell with deliberate care.
Red steps forward, addressing Hrolf's glare. "She insisted on meeting the donor. Lady Deirdre is the only one I trust to do this properly. She has decades of training and she knows how to keep a secret."
"Does she?" Hrolf doesn't look away from the noblewoman.
Lady Deirdre meets his stare without flinching. "I have kept far more dangerous secrets than this, Master Dwarf. I want that girl to live more than anything in this world."
A beat passes.
Hrolf leans back against the opposite wall, arms folding slowly across his chest. The hostility doesn't leave his face but something underneath it shifts.
"Open the cell," she tells Red.
"My lady, perhaps it's better if I do it—"
"Do you think I would let someone inexperienced bungle the draw and waste his generous offer?" She doesn't wait for his answer. "Open it."
The door swings open and Deirdre steps into the cell without breaking stride. Hrolf rises to his full height. She meets his gaze evenly and neither looks away.
"Sit," she commands, pointing to the stone bench. "And remove that leather bracer. I need clear access to the basilic vein."
Hrolf obeys, rolling up his sleeve to reveal forearms corded with muscle and scars. She examines his veins, fingers tapping to find the right one.
"You've ruined the good veins," she says with disdain. "Should have called for me immediately instead of this sword nonsense."
She unwraps her kit of needles, tubing, and collection bags. Everything laid out in precise order.
"This will hurt a bit," she warns, then slides the needle into Hrolf's arm.
Dark red blood begins flowing through the tubing into the first collection bag.
They don't speak for a moment.
"I'm sorry for asking this of you," Deirdre murmurs as she monitors the flow rate. "But thank you. You're giving us a chance to save a life."
