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“It’s better inside the city,” Skye said, holding out a hand and helping her up yet another grueling, mud-choked rise. “The aether cores make the air breathable. Out here, your body has to dip into its own supply to compensate. It takes a toll if you’re not used to it.”

Her boot slipped, and Skye hauled her up the rest of the way like she weighed nothing, depositing her on a flat outcropping of rock.

“Taly, please,” he said. “Let me carry something—your pack, your pride, whatever weighs less.”

It was always the same. Fey males saw a little struggle and immediately had to swoop in like it was their life’s calling.

Taly shouldered past him with a glare. “The only circumstance in which I will consent to being carried,” she snapped, breath ragged, “is if a basilisk pops out of the river and chews off both my legs.”

And even then, her pride might not survive the journey.

Skye dragged a hand down his face, wiping at the dampness there. “Fine,” he muttered, clearly not happy, but unwilling to fight her on it. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

She wouldn’t. Even if her head was swimming and the stitch in her side burned like a branding iron. She’d spent her childhood chasing Skye, pushing through the aches, the bruises, the breathless strain of always being a step behind. Pain was just a signal, a message her body was sending, and one she’d learned to override.

She would keep up. She always had.

Her boot hit another patch of slick mud. The ground abruptly slid out from underneath her as the forest spun—

Skye caught her around the waist, bodily lifting her. “That’s it. We’re stopping for lunch.”

“No,” she protested, but it was weak as hell. She had no fight left in her as he hauled her the rest of the way up the hill.

Skye looked over at Kato, who was leaning against a tree, clearly glad for the break. “Let’s make camp here.”

Kato smirked, stretching his arms over his head with exaggerated ease. “For the record, Taly, rescuing you is exhausting. If you could spend less time arguing and more time appreciating the rescue, that would be great.”

She was going to kill him. She was going—

“Stop wiggling,” Skye growled, sounding like he wanted to drop her—but instead, he lowered her gently onto the first patch of flat ground.

“This is unnecessary,” she muttered, slumping against a tree. She didn’t try to get up. She already knew her legs wouldn’t hold her.

Skye rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome, Taly. Really, no need to thank me for saving you from yourself.”

He pressed a canteen into her hands. She barely tasted the faeflower as she gulped it down. Her breaths were coming too quickly, each one just a little less satisfying. There was a strange wheezing sound. It took her a moment to realize it was coming from her.

Dropping the bags, Skye knelt in front of her. “Just concentrate on breathing. In and out.” His voice was calm as he began unfastening her cloak, then the buttons of her overcoat, digging through the layers of winter clothing until he found bare skin.

“What are you doing?” she panted.

He pressed his palm flat against her chest, feeling the unsteady rise of each labored breath. “Try to relax.”

There was a push of aether. Taly gasped as her lungs expanded.

Out, out, out—past that hitch and that weight.

Another push. Another breath.

It was like punching through water, drowning, and then finally,finally,breaking to the surface and finding that first gasp of air.

And all the while, Skye’s voice continued in that deep rumbling tenor.That’s it. Good girl. Just breathe.

The air around her sparked violet, and she knew that he was using his magic to pull at the ambient aether, tucking it in close around her to create a cocoon of breathable air.

“You know, I think the universe might actually implode if you admitted you needed help,” Skye murmured.

Mist and sweat drenched Taly’s hair, making it cling to her neck and forehead. He pushed it out of her eyes with gentle fingers, brow furrowing.