Page 173 of Feralheart

“Hmm,” was all he said, a frown on his face. “I also received an imp-delivered message tonight.”

His hand lifted like he wanted to rake it through his hair.

I caught his wrist. “Hold still.”

He dropped his hand to his side. “My mother has sent me two since the Scorching started. You saw what I did with the first one where she made it clear she didn’t like my conduct, that she was going to deliver her punishment when the Scorching is over. She sent another to me a short time ago.”

“What did it say?”

“I burned it without reading it.”

I nodded, biting down on my lower lip.

“I don’t care what she thinks. She knew before the trial that I was changing.”

My fingers went numb on the bandage I was securing in place.

“And if she knew,” his voice remained a bare whisper. “If she suspected I’d choose differently…”

He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to.

Had she guided the trial to try to force him to choose himself and leave me behind?

I finished with his bandage and sat back on my heels. Blood coated my fingers, mixing with the red lines that wouldn’t fade.

“This isn’t enough,” I said. “You need a proper healer. Someone with⁠—”

He caught my wrist. “No.”

“It’s a deep wound. What I’ve done is barely⁠—”

“You’re all I need.”

The tent went quiet.

He released me, his hand dropping to his side again. “You did enough. It feels better already.”

The tent had shrunk, or I’d expanded. He was too close. I could see each breath lift his chest and the way his pulse jumped in his throat.

A horn sounded outside.

We both stopped breathing.

The next trial?

He struggled to the side of the bed and tried to stand. His face paled. I caught him with an arm around his back before he could fall, wedging my shoulder under his good arm.

“Take it slowly,” I said.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re being foolish.”

His mouth curved despite everything. “That’s a helpful observation, Feral.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Feral?”

“It fits, don’t you think?”