I open my eyes again to see him standing over me. It’s evening. I’m back at Miss Hazel’s in one of the twin beds and—I shuffle around a bit on the mattress—in just my bra and underwear beneath the thin blanket covering my midsection.

“Welcome back.”

Memories return in a jarring stream. Sel. The forest. The smell of copper, so much blood, mingling with his magic. “ ’M alive.”

William’s mouth quirks. “Yes.”

“Valec,” I murmur. “Went to find you.”

“It took Valec and me three hours to get to you both. That was three days ago.”

I blink. I don’t know which number to tackle first.

“I’ve been lucky as a Scion of Gawain,” William whispers. “I’d never had to triage between two dying friends, and I never want to do it again.”

I frown, and remember the speed of the two cambions, flashing around their opponents. Sel was in his element, and still powered by my aether. I don’t remember seeing a mark on him. “Two dying friends?”

William releases a short sigh, and steps aside.

Behind him, on Alice’s bed across the room, is Sel. Paler than I’ve ever seen him, skin striking against the shadows. Still, like a reclining statue carved out of stone and clothed in a pair of jeans and a black tee.

“He’s alive. Although neither of you should be.”

“What happened?” My eyes are only for Sel. His eyelids are pinched tight, like even in sleep he can’t relax. Unlike me, he’s lying above the covers—he runs so hot, I think.

William points to the blanket, pulling my attention with a question in his eyes. “May I? Easier to show you.”

“Sure, but—”

William lifts the blanket up, revealing my bare midsection and several dozen butterfly bandages closing four long, jagged red stripes stretching from underneath the cup of my right breast to my hipbone. Newly healed wounds, fresh scars.

He points to one of the darker lines. “They were all bad, with massive hemorrhaging, but this one was the worst. Deep tissue lacerations, through the fat layer and through muscle. Claws sliced clean through to the marrow of your ribs. Air got into your chest cavity, between your right lung and chest wall, resulting in a pneumothorax, collapsed lung.”

I feel it then, the ache in my chest. Like even mentioning it was enough to remind my body of its healed wounds.

William watches me carefully, pausing before moving on. His finger hovers over the scar, following it down to the bottom of my rib cage. “Demon split your diaphragm and opened your liver up on the way down. Grazed your stomach and missed your colon, thankfully, else sepsis would have been an issue and…” He shakes his head.