Tears prick at my eyes. I don’t know if I want him to keep going. I do know I want to understand what happened. But every word he says, every organ he mentions, wakes up in response. My insides are burning by the end.

William replaces the blanket. “In the nonmagical world, you’d have gone into shock and died within minutes.”

It takes a few attempts to find the next words. “Sel healed me?”

He shakes his head once, his eyes soft. “No. Sel held you together with his constructs. Kept your organs intact, pulled the muscles in place, reconnected the veins and nerves, and kept the blood moving to avoid necrosis. Kept your oxygen flowing.”

I know I faded in and out. I remember Sel’s face above mine, twisted in a grimace. His voice, chanting.

“The average Merlin knows how to cast large weapons that are hard and sharp, and the harder and sharper, the better. But what Sel did was unprecedented. He cast thousands of flexible microscopic aether constructs, and manipulated them to keep you alive. More than bandages, they were”—William shakes his head, voice half in awe—“life support. For three hours. Even if another Merlin could have come up with this that quickly, could have pulled this off, the effort would have killed them.” William frowns. “Sel collapsed as soon as he saw me. Held on as long as he could.”

Air leaves my battered chest in a rush. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

William’s smile is sympathetic. “Whatever you say, it should be to Sel. Not me. He almost died to keep you alive.”

It’s hard to focus on his words. I’m caught between the fractured memories then and my broken body now. I’m terrified of what could have happened, and what did. Dizziness overtakes me, and my eyelids begin to droop.

“Rest,” William says, as I slip back into unconsciousness.

When I wake again, the light has changed. Sel’s bed is empty. Impossibly, there is a sticky note on my chest.

He woke up early. Refused to lie back down. You are both going to kill me with stress one day. I would ask you to rest, but I know you won’t. At the least, please drink the water on the table. You’ve lost a lot of fluid.

“Water?” At the foot of my bed is Alice, quietly holding the glass of water William left behind. I hadn’t noticed her.

I nod from my pillow.

She leans forward with tears in her eyes. “Matty…”

“I’m okay.” I grimace and push to sitting and take the glass in both hands. My middle feels tight, but I can already tell I’ve healed some since the last time I was awake. “I’m okay.” The water is delicious.