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Then understanding hits.

His face changes.

“No,” Ezra says.

He’s moving before anyone else can react, grabbing Rhett by the jaw and turning his face toward the light.

Rhett jerks against his grip. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Hold still.” Ezra angles his face the other way, staring at something near his temple. Then he swears under his breath.

My stomach drops.

“What?” I push closer, trying to see whatever the hell they’re seeing. “What is it?”

Ezra doesn’t answer.

Rhett finally knocks his hand away and takes a step back, looking between all three of us.

“Would everyone stop fucking looking at me like I’m about to grow another head?”

I see it then. Near his temple. One strand of hair. Gray and tiny. Almost nothing. But it wasn’t there before.

Rhett sees my face and his hand rises to touch it. “No.”

Malakai whispers, “You’re aging.”

The room disappears.

Not literally.

It just feels like it.

Rhett stands perfectly still with his fingers remaining against that single gray hair. Then he laughs. Once. Small. Disbelieving. “I’ll be damned.”

“Rhett.”

He looks at Ezra. “I’m going to die, again.”

Nobody answers.

He smiles but this smile isn’t Rhett. It’s fragile. Almost childlike. “I can actually die.” He looks at me and somehow… he looks happy.

That scares me more than anything. “No.”

His smile fades. “Sage.”

I grab his shirt. “No.”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” My voice shakes. “Because apparently I’m the only person in this room who thinks dying is bad.”

His face softens. “For two hundred years…”

“I don’t care.” I shake my head.

“Sage.”