He scrubbed his face to dash away the dampness in his eyes before she saw it.

If—if that happened, then he’d serve her forever. Simple as that. Or as long as she could bear to look at him, at least. He could be the strength she’d lost.

Wild Hunt damn it, he’d willingly work himself to death for this.

He drew a long breath and took her hands again. “Tell me the instant you feel faint. I’ll try to keep as much energy expenditure on my end as possible, but it will still drain you. There’s nothing I can do to prevent that.” He frowned and ducked, forcing her to meet his eye. “Vee, this is important. Do you understand?”

She raised her eyebrows, mouth opening, then closing with a long exhale through her nose. Swallowing, she nodded. “I understand. Try not to kill me.” The corner of her mouth twitched, and she flexed her hands in his grip.

“Keep your eyes open, then I can see if you pass out.”

“Just get on with it.”

Gaze fixed on hers, he delved within, to that core of golden light that kept him warm, that had fled in the presence of the iron gibbet cage, that he brought out to heal.

The back of his neck tickled—he always closed his eyes when he healed, seeing her as he did this private thing felt intimate, vulnerable.

A flicker of a frown crossed her face, but she kept her eyes on him and gave the smallest nod as if willing him on.

He slowed his breaths and dived to the centre of that light, where it blazed brightest. Where distant voices sang in a language he didn’t understand but felt like he’d once known. When he went this deep, that soft song called to him, alluring, welcoming, promising a warm home and hearth and sincere, loving acceptance.

But he’d been told in no uncertain terms: to follow it was to die.

So, instead, he scooped up handfuls of the light and brought it from that place, carrying it here into reality. His hands shone in that familiar warm glow, and at once Vee let out a soft sound that was part-pleasure, part-relief. He knew from experience on the receiving end how wonderful it felt at this point.

But then came the next part.

Every muscle tense, he raised his eyebrows. Was she ready?

Her jaw knotted, and she nodded, hands trembling in his loose hold.

When he pushed the light into her, he gasped. The deficit—the lack in her … it was a yawning pit, cold, empty, dark.

The last time he’d healed her, when he’d closed his eyes and touched his magic to hers, she’d shone with crackling energy, incandescent, brilliant, powerful. Now, he could barely pick out a dim light in her, like one of their cave’s glow-worms at a great distance.