“I know the wound’s gone—Lacey was clear about that—but it’s like my body didn’t get the message.”
He winced again and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“What are you doing?” I asked, a little amused.
“Trying to get up.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You want some help?”
Phoenix shot me a look.
“No thanks.”
Typical.
I turned back to the window.
Elira had curled into a ball on the stone path, her arms wrapped around her knees, eyes fixed on the full silver moon. The light washed over her in soft, cold tones—like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to comfort her or expose her.
Slade moved a little closer, hands clenched at his sides.
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak.
But she didn’t move away, either.
I watched as Slade slipped off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
Elira didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at him. But her fingers curled around the fabric, holding it tighter. Her eyes closed—just for a moment.
I let out a slow breath.
She wasn’t completely gone.
Not yet.
At least, I hoped.
I stayed at the window a moment longer, watching her sit there like she was made of glass. Like one wrong breath might shatter her.
Slade had stepped back again—close but not pressing. He understood what distance meant. What silence meant.
But I couldn’t stay up here forever. Not when she needed me.
I stood, ignoring the ache in my legs, and grabbed the blanket I’d left folded on the chair. Not that she’d take it. Not that she’d even notice.
But maybe she would.
Maybe she’d see I was there.
Phoenix glanced at me but didn’t speak. Just watched as I made my way toward the door.
“She might not say anything,” he said quietly.
“I know,” I replied. “I’m not going out there to talk.”
I stepped out into the wintry night.
The stars were dim above Shadowmere, barely pushing through the mist.
