Veyr
Sheng Arden. The last person Veyr had expected to see or hear from. What the hell was he doing here, he thought as his eyes met his brother's disappointed gaze. He wondered why his brother was even there if all he would do was judge him for no reason.
"Why are you here?" he demanded, reaching out to grab Ryn's hand, but just as his fingers were about to touch his, Ryn swayed. His knees buckled, his silver hair spilling forward as he began to fall.
Veyr caught him before he hit the floor, his arms locking around Ryn's fragile body. "Ryn," the name tore from his throat. He pressed two fingers to Ryn's neck and gasped when he felt his pulse. It was weak and fluttering, shallow and unsteady.
"What is happening to him? Did Zhao get to him?" he asked, turning toward Master Lysander.
"No," Master Lysander said, his voice softer than Veyr had ever heard it, almost regretful.
