The swollen and leaking fola behind his eyes made her shiver. She let the magic flicker from her hand, sighing at the way it hummed between them. “You must have terrible headaches.”

“How do you know that?” he asked guardedly.

Wren tapped his forehead. “You’ve got a lot of pressure behind your eyes. Ever considered that’s why you’re so miserable and tired all the time?”

Hal flinched back as if she’d burned him. “I didn’t realize that was part of your assessment.”

“Forgive me for being holistic,” she grumbled. “You’ve allowed your fola to degenerate, which could’ve been prevented if you’d had someone competent looking after you. If you don’t get it under control, it could blind you someday.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

“Must you refuse any and all kindness? Honestly. It seems exhausting.”

“I don’t know what to do with yours. It so often feels like an attack,” he said wearily. “Regardless, I allowed my magic to degenerate because I wanted to. It’s for the best.”

“That’s all well and good for your self-flagellation campaign, but as your doctor—” Wren cut herself off with a quiet sigh. It didn’t matter much now how he dealt with his magic, did it? “Shall we head to town before the storm picks up again?”

Hal shrugged on his coat, and when she foisted a scarf on him, he squirmed away from her like a child from an overbearing parent. Although he’d gotten better, he still accepted charity like an insult. Today, she wouldn’t compromise. He would need all the warmth he could get.

“If you catch a cold, I’ll be so cross with you.” She tugged a hat over his ears. “Cooperate.”

With that, they were ready.

They slipped out through the servants’ quarters and into the snow. Those first, tentative steps allowed her to walk on the thick, glittering crust before she sank to nearly her knees. She squinted through the drifts at the town some mile and a half in the distance. An ocean of snowfall and pine separated them from civilization, the surface rippled by wind. As it gusted past her, the trees shook loose showers of snow and ice from their fine green needles.

Hal matched her stride, but Wren slowed down when she realized that he was struggling to keep up. His breaths were long and deliberate, but she could hear the rattle in his lungs over the snow crunching beneath their boots. Even though he was faring well, he was still a way off from a complete recovery. And judging by his vital signs, sensed dimly through their tether, he didn’t have much more than an hour before the sedative took effect.