“Matty, you’re incredible. The strongest person I know, even before all of this. But you have got to stop almost dying. It’s not cool.”

I drop my hand over hers. “It’s a lot cooler when it’s small stuff, that’s for sure.”

Her mouth quirks. “I don’t like the small or large stuff, I don’t think. I prefer the no-stuff.”

I chuckle, then catch my breath. “Same.”

She raises a hand to my hairline, lightly drawing her index finger over the silver curls that have not gone away. “Still here.”

I pull on the locks of curls she’s found, drawing them down over my eyes.

Alice studies them. “From using your power?”

“Dunno. Seems like.” I release the curls and look toward where Sel had been sleeping. “He’s up. Does that mean he’s okay?”

William walks in the room, seesawing his head. “Physically, sure. Mentally… unclear. He told us what happened with Nick. And then, right after that you were attacked. The way Valec described your injuries, I was certain you’d be dead by the time we arrived. Selwyn was there with you the whole time, thinking you could go at any moment, right in front of him. I wouldn’t wish that type of terror on anyone.” He perches on the other side of my bed, tilting my chin gingerly back and forth to look in my eyes.

I nod, guilt flooding me at the strain still there on my friend’s face. “I know… the Lines—”

“The Lines?!” William exclaims, startling me. His face is twisted in long-simmering frustration—and fear. He releases a hollow, sour laugh. “The Lines, Bree? You nearly died.”

“Y-yes,” I begin, hands worrying at the blanket. “I know what it means if I fall. I do. I’m sorry. I just… don’t like feeling coddled and useless. I’m not some damsel—”

“Stop.” William holds up a hand. “Just stop.” I’ve only seen that line between his brows when he’s treating the most critical patients. “You’re more than the Lines, Bree. And the fact that you think that was the first thing we thought about? It makes me wonder if you know any of us at all.”

I have trouble holding his gaze, and shame in the form of heat floods my neck and chest.

“I was thinking about saving my friends. Not the damn Lines.” He rubs a hand over his mouth, and the brown stubble of his chin stands out against the pale skin of his fingers.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” I murmur. I wonder if I’m numb to it all, now.

He heaves a breath. “I know you mean well.”

That doesn’t sit right with me, but I’m not sure how to fix it.