Page 113 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

Carefully, so carefully, we make the transfer. Grier settles behind her, taking my place, his arms wrapping around her to keep her upright. His hold is gentle, like steadiness is the only thing he has left to offer.

I sit at the table, my back aching from being upright all night. Marel presses a cup into my hands, and I drain it in one go. She pushes a bowl of stew closer to me.

“Eat,” she says. “Your girl is going to need you strong when she wakes.”

Your girl. The words hit deep, and I don’t fight them. I eat, but I barely taste it. All I can do is watch her breathe.

“She’s lucky, you know.” I look up. Marel is watching me. “To have people who care for her like you two.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I’m the lucky one.”

She studies me for a long moment, her face softening.

“We should check her wound soon and change the dressing. The honey needs to be reapplied.” She pauses. “And we need to get food in her. Broth at least. She’s lost a lot of blood, and she needs to rebuild her strength.”

I nod because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

“You might need to feed her. Something tells me you’re up to the task,” Marel says with a small smile.

I set the empty bowl aside, already pushing to my feet.

I kneel beside them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Grier says with no hesitation or resentment.

He should hate me. The fact that he doesn’t burns worse.

We make the transfer again, careful and gentle. Her weight settles against my chest like it belongs there. Her hand finds my arm and curls around it weakly. Even in sleep, she’s holding onto me like I’m the only solid thing in the world. Fight, little fox. Come back to me.

Grier moves to the chair nearby, but I can feel him watching us, protecting us.

Marel kneels beside us with clean bandages and warmed honey.

This is the part I dread, holding her while someone hurts her. Even knowing it’s necessary, it still feels like I’m failing her. I’d take this pain from her if I could, carve it out of her body and put it in mine.

Marel works carefully.

“She’s healing well,” she murmurs. “Better than I expected.”

She applies fresh honey to the wound, then reaches for the clean bandages. As she begins to wrap them around Gemma’s torso, the movement shifts her ribs⁠—

Gemma’s eyes fly open, and a cry tears from her throat.

The sound goes through me like a blade. Every instinct screams to make it stop, to take her away from this.

“I’m so sorry, little fox. She’s almost done.” I pull her closer, my lips finding her temple.

Marel works quickly, wrapping the bandages with practiced hands. Gemma trembles against me, tears streaming down her face, and every sound she makes cracks my chest open. My own eyes are burning, but I blink it back. She needs me steady; she needs me here.

When Marel is finally done, I wrap myself around her as much as I can without hurting her. Breathing her in, like my body alone, might be enough to keep her here.

Her eyes are barely open now, and she looks exhausted and hollowed out.

“Rye?” Her voice is barely there, but she’s looking at me, actually seeing me.

“I’m here.” I press my forehead to hers, cupping her face gently. My thumbs brush away her tears. “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

She nods weakly, and her eyes are already drifting closed.