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“Donotspeak of her death so casually.”

I crack open my eyes. Calysian’s face is just inches from mine. “It’s almost done,” he assures me, his face bone-white. “And then you’ll sleep and rest and heal.”

The burning finally ends, replaced by an icy sensation that offers relief for approximately one minute before it makes me shudder.

“I have done all I can.” The healer sounds weary. I can’t see her, but Calysian spares her a glance.

“Will she live?”

“I’ve done my part. The rest is up to her.”

He tenses at that, and I twitch my fingers. His eyes meet mine. “Stop intimidating her. She’s trying to help.”

His mouth twitches, but he nods. “You must be feeling better if you’re giving me orders already.”

I’m not. The pain has dulled to an ache, but I feel an exhaustion that goes far beyond normal fatigue, along with the sense that I left most of my blood in that swamp.

“Sleep,” Calysian says. “I’ll ensure no one dares harm you.”

I frown at him, but my eyes are already drifting shut, his savage expression the last sight I see.

Madinia

Warmth. Comfort.

I drift.

Occasionally, I surface, only to dive deep once more, flashes of dreams and memories flickering through my mind.

It’s the voices that wake me. Low, male, familiar.

I attempt to open my eyes, but my eyelids are so heavy, I fall deeper into the hazy place between sleep and waking.

“How long have you known who I am?” Calysian’s voice is hard. For a moment, I think he’s speaking to me.

“Don’t ask me this.” Eamonn’s tone is more serious than I’ve ever heard it.

“Tell me.”

“Since the moment you were cast into this world.”

“We met just a few years ago.”

“I knew of you.”

“And you allowed me to wander for centuries.” Calysian’s tone is cool. Remote. My skin suddenly feels too tight, and I attempt to open my eyes once more.

Iloathewhen he speaks like that. When he becomes Calpharos.

Eamonn sighs. “I searched for you the first time you were on this continent and could not find you. It was only when you returned that I could sense you. When I did, I was unable to speak of your true nature.”

“Cease your excuses.”

I finally manage to open my eyes. The room is lighter. How long have I been asleep?

Turning my head requires too much strength, but from here I can see Calysian sitting by the window, Eamonn laying at his feet in the form of a large, shaggy dog.

“It’s not an excuse. I wasphysicallyunable to speak of it,” Eamonn clarifies. “Cursed. Just as you are. Not only to never walk in my true body, but to never tell you the truth of who you are. It was an impossibility. Now that you know, I will share what knowledge I can.”