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I haven’t heard Kane’s voice since he called out to me that once, and while I feel reassured that he survived the fall, I’m frightened by the silence that’s followed.

I get to the edge of the forest, and through the trees, I can see my residence hall. I choke on a cry when my eyes fall on Kane’s slumped form lying on the lawn between it and me. He’s exactly where Memnon dropped him, and he doesn’t look like he’s moved.

I race to him and fall to my knees, Nero joining me a moment later.

Kane is slumped on his side, his eyes closed.

“Kane?” I say. “Kane?”

He doesn’t respond.

I place my hands on his chest, not bothering to check his pulse or rouse him again. Unless he’s beyond saving, what I’m about to do should work.

Closing my eyes, I call on my magic. I’ve never done this before, but I have enough power and determination to give it a shot.

“Seal punctured flesh, mend broken bones, staunch the unbidden bleeding, and heal the wounds within.”I speak the words in Sarmatian, and though they don’t rhyme, the power of them—power steeped in age and obscurity—adds a sharp potency to the spell.

My palms tingle, and then thick, viscous magic seeps from them. It settles over Kane’s skin before being absorbed into his body.

I sense it healing him, but I don’t see the results right away, not until his crumpled form seems to expand, and it looks unnervingly like a balloon inflating. I can only imagine what sort of internal damage would cause his body to collapse in on itself in the first place.

Kane grunts as one of his legs untwists, and I have to stop myself from wincing on his behalf. I know shifters are used to their bodies rearranging themselves, but this looks violently painful.

A minute goes by, and I’m drawing in ragged breaths, my magic taxing me. I can feel a prickling throb in my head as memories are siphoned away. I won’t think about how many memories this has cost me.

Kane moans, then lets out a weak cough. Before he even opens his eyes, he calls out, “Selene!”

I release a shaky breath, my relief almost palpable.

“I’m right here, Kane,” I say soothingly, smoothing a hand down the side of his face. “I’m healing you. You were thrown a long way down.”

The shifter’s brows come together and he forces his eyes open. As soon as he sees me, he reaches for my hand. “You’re healing me?” he echoes.

I give his grip a squeeze. “Yeah.”

A muffled wet sound comes from his body as my power repairs something. Kane makes a pained low growl.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “So sorry.” Not just for the pain my magic is bringing him—pain he might be able to manage if he could shift and heal himself—but also for the fact I brought this upon him. I’ve known Memnon is a threat ever since he first confronted me.

A threat Ikissedonly minutes ago.

Ugh, what is wrong with me?

Kane closes his eyes. “I just want to know”—he swallows—“that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Kane. As long as you’re okay, I will be too.”

His hand squeezes mine.

You touch that boy, and he dies. Slowly.

I draw in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves because Ihavebeen touching that boy, and screw that sorcerer because I willkeeptouching him until he’s better. I want to rip Memnon apart from shoulder to hip. The fuckingaudacityhe has to threaten me.

Kane’s eyes flutter. “Who was that who attacked us?” he asks, his voice hoarse. “And how did you get away?”

I glance over at the tree line, my skin still tingling from all the places Memnon touched it.

“It’s a long story,” I say. “He’s”—I was a king and you were my queen—“an old enemy.”