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Ria kept her head lowered, but there was the faintest smile on her lips.

“Focus,” Dorian said to her, though the amusement hadn’t left his voice. “And don’t forget to breathe.”

Ria brought the needle down again. Asterion held his breath as the needle let out a faint shimmer as it pierced her skin. This time, the line she drew was longer, moving toward her wrist. She was getting better. Her hand had steadied over the course of the afternoon and the practice marks on her forearm were more controlled and deliberate.

“Last one,” Dorian said. “Make it count.”

Ria rolled her shoulders and rotated her wrist before placing the needle back on her skin. She drew one long line from the center of her forearm to just above her wrist. This time, the needle glowed brighter, leaving behind a trail of light as it marred her skin.

Dorian bent close, studied the line, then straightened.

“That’ll do.” He took the needle from her and set it on the workstation. “You’re ready.”

Ria blew out a breath, then flexed her hand. She was pale and now there were shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there earlier in the day.

“How do you feel?” Asterion asked. It came out before he could stop it.

“I’m fine.” A smile formed on her face, though it was taut at the corners.

“You don’t look fine,” Asterion interjected as he got up and walked over to her. “You look tired. And sick.” And she had crooked lines of ink all over her beautiful, smooth skin.

“I said I’m fine.” She stood from the chair, her knees straightening. “See? Fine.”

Dorian handed her a glass of water. “Drink this. All of it.”

As she downed it, Dorian turned to Asterion. “She needs food and rest. The practice lines will fade overnight, but the drain on her energy won’t recover as fast.”

“How soon can I do the real one then?” Ria asked.

“A few days at least, and take the time to practice the incantations until you can speak them from memory. You’ll know when you’re ready, and you’ll also have to prepare the patient.” He scratched at his chin. “A sleeping draught ought to do the trick.”

Ria inhaled deeply. “Got it. Between the Moonmoss and my healing, we should be able to keep Korinnae stable until I’m ready to do the real thing.” She glanced down at the practice lines. “The real thing will be permanent, right?”

“Yes.”

Asterion winced inwardly at the reminder of the pain and disfigurement she would have to go through. Despite all this time he spent with her, he still didn’t trust magic. Having no idea how magic worked, he didn’t know how it would affect her after the procedure.

“I’ll have to pick a design that I like then,” she said with a grin.

“The good news is, it won’t be as draining as the practice.” His deep blue eyes shifted from Ria to Asterion. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Asterion said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Dorian warned.

Ria mumbled a thank you and goodbye, then they headed out. The late afternoon was fading as they exited the shop and Salem wasn’t as rowdy as it was yesterday now that the Halloween crowds were gone. As Ria walked beside him, he couldn’t help but notice the tightness of her shoulders and the shallowness of her breaths, like she’d just run a marathon.

“I can carry you,” he offered.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned, and increased her pace, keeping two steps ahead of him until they made it to the inn. She got as far as the second floor hallway before her knees buckled.

Cursing silently, he caught her by the waist with one arm around and the other beneath her legs, lifting her without a word. She didn’t protest, which scared him even more. Entering his room, he gently laid her on the bed.

“Ria…” He reached out and touched her cheek. She looked even worse now, even paler than before and her lips turned from pink to ashy. But she was conscious, and when her hand came up to cover his, her grip was steady.

“What do you need? Tell me.”

“Touch,” she murmured. “Just touch me.”