>>Aelin
The world passed in flickers—branches scraping overhead, the rough pull of hands at my wrists and ankles, my own blood warm and sticky as it left a trail behind me through the forest. My chest throbbed with every breath, shallow and ragged, as the tendrils' wound pulsed with fresh agony.
But through the haze, I kept my eyes on him.
Reagan walked ahead, tall and untouchable, like I wasn't dying behind him. Like I was just a piece to be moved back into place.
I gritted my teeth. The taste of iron flooded my mouth. My voice came out broken.
"How long…?"
He didn't turn.
I forced the words out again, though the effort nearly made me black out. "How long… has this been happening? How long have you been consuming the black milk?"
Only then did he pause. Slowly, Reagan looked over his shoulder at me. His expression wasn't cold—it was bored. Like this wasn't the first time someone had asked him that question, and like the answer never changed.
