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Damon’s grip eased a little. I wanted to thank him for that small surrender, but there was more poison to draw out.

Every cough dragged at the damaged flesh. Every instinct urged me to mend it. But I couldn’t do that. Not yet. There was still poison clinging to him, sleeping under my hands. And so, I kept going. Kept fighting the spore.

By now, Damon was shaking violently. The extraction was taking a toll, but I couldn’t stop until it was out. I bent closer to him, making him meet my eyes.

“The marks are fading,” I told him. “I can feel what’s left. Stay with us a little longer.”

I didn’t know if he believed me. I wanted to promise that the next cough would be the last, but I couldn’t do that either. All I could do was keep my hands steady and finish.

Eryx braced him over the basin again as the next cough came. He wiped Damon’s mouth and kept his head supported, doing what I needed before I could ask.

“His breathing is easier,” he told me. “Continue.”

I held to that. The pain beneath my palms made it difficult to believe we were helping, but Eryx was attending to the things I couldn’t spare a hand to check.

There was still a trace deep beneath Damon’s ribs. I drew it upward, unwilling to leave any trace that might feed on the healing. When I reached for Damon’s own current, it answered. It was weak and battered, with nothing clinging to it.

“It’s out,” I told Eryx, hardly daring to let the relief into my voice. “Settle him back.”

He lowered Damon against the blanket. I kept my hands on his chest and let the healing spread. The injured flesh answered at once. I followed the current through the raw places, knitting what the spore had damaged. Slowly, Damon’s breath began to ease.

Kallisto made a small sound beside me. I couldn’t look up yet, couldn’t let relief hurry me past an injury I might have missed.

“Does it still burn?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Less,” he whispered, sounding as though he scarcely believed it. “It’s… It’s better now.”

That was exactly what I needed to hear. I stayed with the healing until the strain eased. Eryx checked Damon again, then drew the edges of his tunic together.

Kallisto took Damon’s hand and pressed it against her cheek. “I thought I’d lost you,” she confessed. The admission broke on the last word, as though she could only afford to say it now.

“So did I.” Damon turned his head toward Eryx. “You saved me. Ambassador—”

“We both treated you.” Eryx cut him off. “Rest now. There’s no need to sit up to thank anyone.”

There was no ceremony in his answer. He tucked the blanket around Damon’s shoulders, dismissing the gratitude just to make him more comfortable.

Damon said something to Kallisto, too quietly for me to hear. As they spoke, Bion returned with blankets and a clean shirt. Kallisto reached for them, but her hands were trembling too badly to unfold the linen.

“Sit down before I need another bed,” Bion grumbled, pulling a stool toward her. “There’s a room nearby. He can recover there.”

“I should stay with him,” she protested, looking past Bion toward the table. I doubted she would willingly let Damon out of her sight for some time.

“There’s room for you too,” the satyr assured her. “You don’t need to worry.”

Kallisto believed him. When Bion picked Damon up, she didn’t try to interfere.

I washed my hands while Bion settled the woodcutter in the adjoining room. The water was cool, and I kept my fingers submerged longer than I needed to. They still felt the injured places I’d mended.

Kallisto gathered the clean shirt against her chest, then paused at the doorway. “I don’t have anything to pay you with,” she admitted. “But I can work. Once I’ve rested, I can make myself useful.”

I hated that she was worrying about payment already. Or at all. Most often, we didn’t demand coin at the shrine. Only whatever our wounded were willing to spare. I was opening my mouth to tell her so, but Eryx spoke first.

“You can speak to Bion about that later,” he told her. “For now, you both have somewhere to stay.”

She bowed her head and went to Damon.

I dried my hands slowly. Eryx picked up the bottle he’d used and checked the stopper. Such an ordinary little thing to hold what had been in it. I’d looked at his medicine and hoped. He’d offered it and known.