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"I don't have the words for it yet."

"Then don't have them." She kissed him, lightly, on the mouth. He let her kiss him. He stayed there with his eyes closed.

After a while she said, "Alcaeus first."

"Yes."

"Then we will find you something to do with your hands."

A short, broken laugh against her mouth. "Witchling."

"I am serious."

"I know."

He kissed her, then, briefly.

Lysander let her go alone into the hospice.

Alcaeus’ flesh was pallid, and he barely could open his eyes.

“I’m here,” Idonea said, taking his hand in hers.

His eyes struggled and a smile slid over his face. “My daughter.”

She rolled her shoulders before she crossed to him. The marks along her spine pulled when she stretched. They had stopped burning at some point. They hadn't stopped being there. The scarring was thicker than the inking had ever been. She would, she thought, carry the texture for the rest of her life.

She’d already shed a lot of blood. Her hand trembled as she hovered her dagger over her palm. Her eyes slid over his withering frame. She gritted her teeth and sliced the palm open.

To cure a daemon’s poisoning, she knew she risked exposure for possession, for a direct path to the Nexis was needed. But she’d faced Vinea and survived.

Idonea knew she could do it.

She pressed her palm against his throat and closed her eyes. She pushed passed the Current and tapped into the Eitr that leaked through the Nexis. It was fluid, but fragile. She had to coax it, connect with it, putting all those Resonance lessons into practice.

Idonea called to it and submerged her consciousness after it. Second by second, she forced the Eitr up through the connection. She pushed it into Alcaeus, seeking out the poison, drawing it out and cleansing it.

Her eyes opened to the blood coating his neck and staining the white pillow a sickly red. But it was working.

Colour bloomed up and down from his neck. His complexion returning, his heartbeat strengthening.

Tears welled in her eyes. He’d be okay. Relief hit hard. She hadn't known how tightly she'd been holding that fear.

She sat down in the chair at his bedside and waited.

“Idonea?” Alcaeus said.

She startled from the chair. “I’m here.”

He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

“You saved me.”

Idonea smiled. “I said I would.”

His knuckles brushed down her jawline. “And you’re still here. Still in one piece.”

Idonea glanced down at herself, at her bloodied and dirty self. “In a manner.”