A shimmer appeared near Aethan’s side, and the new Oracle Lore had seen in passing took form.
Michael removed his hands from Aethan’s torso.
The Oracle laid her palms over the injury, and a white light swept into the wound, and still it gushed.
“Why isn’t he healing?” someone growled.
A terrified cry rang out.
“Aethan!” Echo sprinted across the grounds toward them and slid to her knees. “No!”
Lore crouched near her. “He will heal. It’ll just take time.”
Týr knelt at her other side. “He’s going to be okay. Don’t let him feel your distress. I know it’s hard.”
She didn’t look at either of them, her tears falling as she held Aethan’s hand to her chest.
Her pain tore at Lore. More, it was like looking at his mate coming undone?—
“Lore?”
At Nia’s quiet voice, he rose and held out his hand. Her warm fingers wrapped around his, and he drew her into his arms.
“How bad is he?” she asked.
He shook his head, not wanting to voice the words when Echo could hear him. Aethan must have been distracted for a moment, perhaps feeling the chant through his mate bond, and that was likely why he got injured.
The warriors shifted around Aethan, his unmoving, bloodied form coming into view. Nia clamped a hand over her mouth, and in the next instant, she was at her sister’s side, putting her arm around her.
Týr rose and stumbled back.
Lore grabbed him. “Your wounds are bad?—”
“I’m still walking,” he growled. “Aethan is the one at death’s door!”
“Týr!” Kira came careening across the terrace, past the ruined garden, and staggered to a halt. Her face paled at the bloodied gash in her mate’s abs. “Oh, God, you’re still bleeding!” She slipped her arm around his waist and tugged the reluctant warrior indoors.
“The flow’s slowing a little,” the Oracle said. “But it’s not good. He took an angelic weapon through the heart.”
“No,” Echo whispered, tears dripping down her face.
“Let’s get him inside.” Michael rose, his expression like granite. He picked up the urn and flashed both Aethan and Echo away.
“Lore.” Nia grabbed his arm. “What?—?”
“Areyouokay?” he demanded, his gaze skimming her face, scowling at the dried blood smeared on her chin and nose. His wings fluttered in agitation. He hurriedly scanned the rest of her. “You were bleeding?”
“It’s nothing, just a nosebleed. I guess I’m not used to all the spell chanting and magical stuff.” Her eyes widened, darting to his back. “You have wings again.” A trembling smile started, and she reached out a hand. “That’s wonderful.”
His body shuddered at the intimate touch while his scan of her revealed nothing wrong, just exhaustion. “You need some of that energy drink?—”
“I’m fine for now,” she said, patting his naked chest. “Nate healed me. Please, take me to Echo. I need to be there for her, but I don’t know where her quarters are.”
Grateful to Nate for tending to his mate, Lore kissed her head. He withdrew his wings and summoned his weapon, and it settled on his biceps again. He dematerialized them, appearing outside Aethan and Echo’s third-floor quarters.
The warriors remained downstairs, their mates taking care of their injuries, but Lore could sense their edginess to get moving, get to their fallen brother.
Nia knocked on the door and opened it.
