POV: LYRA
I watch Aphrodite return from her meditation session, and immediately I know something is wrong.
Aphrodite's skin is too pale, almost translucent in the late afternoon light. Her hands shake as she accepts the water skin I offer, and when she drinks, I notice her grip is unsteady. Like her strength has been drained by whatever she just did.
The twins hover nearby, their expressions torn between concern and something that looks like fear. Cassian and Bastien exchange worried glances but keep their distance, clearly unsure how to help.
I'm the only one who seems willing to address what's obvious to anyone looking.
"You're pushing too hard," I say quietly, settling down beside Aphrodite near the fire.
"I'm fine," Aphrodite responds automatically, but her voice lacks conviction.
"Your hands are shaking. Your skin is pale. You look like you're about to collapse again." I keep my tone gentle but firm. "That's not fine, Aphrodite."
