Her fola glowed softly, and as she eased her magic into him, the numb, tingling sensation spread from her forearms into her wrists and fingers. It wasn’t wise to push through the discomfort, but they were running out of time. Although she’d nearly let her nerves get the best of her during the transplant surgery, this time, she had to maintain her focus. For Hal’s sake, she had to be perfect.

How different this was from their first session, when he’d nearly gutted her for coming this close. Even a few days ago, the magical link between them had made them both crawl with discomfort. Now, it felt like coming home, a settling in, a yielding. As if her energy belonged in him. All her life, healing had been an obligation, a means of proving herself. And with Hal, it had been a punishment. Now, this was about protecting them.

Something else, too. Something almost tender.

She worked in concentrated silence. Although the glass was cold at her back, sweat beaded on her forehead. The eye was among the most delicate and complex structures to heal. His leaking, frayed fola twined around ophthalmic blood vessels that could kill him if cut; embedded themselves into the muscles anastomosing the sclera and optic nerve; spanned across the conjunctiva like hairline fractures in bone. One wrong move and Hal would lose his eyes. It took all of her energy to knit together the pathways, to soothe the inflamed tissues.

After what felt like hours, the tension that always pinched his brows together and locked his jaw began to ebb away. She repaired the damage until her fingers trembled too hard to safely continue. The energy from her hands surged, then sputtered like a flame on a wick. There was still so much work to do to restore his eyes completely, and the pain of wanting to do more almost outweighed the pain of her own degenerated fola.

Her fingertips still rested on his temples, right against the gentle thrum of his temporal pulse. Hal opened his eyes and reached up and wrapped his hand, warm and rough, around her wrist. Could he feel her heartbeat, too—how it leapt at his touch?

His thumb slid upward, caressing her palm. “I can tell you’re exhausted.”

The silver glow of her magic flickered once more and died. Darkness washed over them.

“I’m sorry.” Her face burned hot with shame. “I think this is all I can do for now. You’ll have one use, maybe two.”

“Then once will have to be enough.” Hal didn’t release her hand. He was studying every detail of her face from beneath his eyelashes as if she were a work of art. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at her like that.

Like she was beautiful.