Dawn came gray and brittle.
The camp stirred without a word. No one mentioned the standoff of the night before, but the tension clung like damp wool, choking every breath. The two men who had risen against her did not meet Aria's gaze, yet their silence was heavier than if they had drawn blades again.
They broke camp quickly, shoulders hunched, eyes downcast, moving as though the graves behind them still tugged at their ankles.
Aria walked beside the stretcher. Kael's skin was pale, his lips tinged blue. Each shallow breath rattled as though his lungs were waterlogged. She dabbed his brow with her sleeve, praying for the fever to break. Her hands trembled so badly that Nora had to steady the cup of water when she tried to tip it to his lips.
"You're burning yourself empty," Nora muttered, her voice hard with a gentleness she rarely allowed. "You'll fall before he does if you keep this up."
