Page 213 of Feralheart

No one said anything for a very long time.

“The system says a lot of things,” Lyndie said. She lifted her chin and her gaze locked on mine. “That doesn’t mean we have to listen. I say we try.”

Reece looked at his dragon. “Yes, we try.”

Fen nodded.

It wasn’t a solution, but it was a choice to keep trying to save each other even when we were supposed to be competing. To refuse the easy answer one more time.

Pack, Selira said. As if it were that simple. As if this had always been the answer.

Lyndie and Reece left to take care of their dragons.

“I should check your bandage,” I told Fen.

“It’s fine.”

“Fen.”

He sighed and sat on the ground so I could reach his shoulder. Kneeling beside him, I peeled back the edge of his tunic, my fingers gentle on the wet fabric.

“You’re bleeding again.”

“Yes.”

I worked quickly, checking the stitches I’d put in. They’d held but the wound wept fresh blood, bright red against his tanned skin.

“Hold still.”

My magic responded to my call, warmth flooding from my palms into his torn flesh. He relaxed under my touch, the pain easing as the blood stopped flowing and the skin puckered together.

I slumped back after I’d finished.

“You’re going to kill yourself taking care of me,” he said.

“I can’t do anything else. You know that.”

“You’re getting better at healing.” He stroked a few strands of hair behind my ear before his hand dropped to his thigh. “You’re getting stronger.”

He caught my wrist and his thumb brushed across the inside, over my pulse that was trying to beat its way through skin.

“When this is over and someone has won and we—” His voice cracked. “I need you to know that you weren’t just⁠—”

I pressed my fingers to his lips before he could finish.

“You don’t need to tell me that,” I said. “I already know.”

The servants were getting closer, setting up the elite camp. Soon, we’d have to figure out where we belonged now that Fen had defected and I’d let him stay.

“We should…”

“Yes, we should.”

His hand stayed on my wrist and mine stayed on his chest, both of us stealing a few more seconds before the world crowded back in.

We were going to have to choose between those we loved. We both knew it. The wish-sharing proposal was hope, and hope was worth protecting, but underneath it the math hadn’t changed.

Tolross was still dying.