Huh. That was weird. Sometimes Grace forgot they were related, although Dage had never heard of Ronan or the Seven until recently. Well, five years ago.

“But you’re so suited to it,” Ronan returned, his back teeth grinding.

“All right. Enough, boys.” Emma grabbed Dage by the arm while Faith set her hand on Ronan’s elbow, each woman taking her mate in hand.

Grace sighed, her legs shaking.

Benny nodded. “That’s why I don’t have a mate. It’s way too complicated.”

“Right, Benny,” the king drawled. “That’s why you don’t have a mate.”

Grace edged out from behind Benny, the tension in the room giving her a headache. “Can I see Adare?” she asked her sister.

Faith nodded. “Go ahead. We’ll handle things here.”

It might have been cowardly, but Grace took the out and all but ran inside the trauma room. Adare slept in a bed at the far end, hooked up to liquids and medical equipment. It was a sight she’d never imagined seeing. The bed was extra-large and long, no doubt created for the immortal soldiers.

Her legs faltered, but she approached the bed, taking a chair close to his head. Somebody had cleaned him up. No dirt or blood remained on his skin, and he wore a thick white T-shirt over his immortal chest. His lashes were dark against his skin, and his dark hair pillowed around him. Even his lips were paler than usual.

The soft beeping of the machinery made her want to cry. She took his hand, slipping hers into his, but he didn’t curl his fingers around it. He didn’t move at all.

The door opened, and Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood slipped inside, holding a pretty plant in her hands. Grace had met her a couple of times, and the young teenager had always been polite and ready with a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Hope set the plant on the granite counter by a sink and took the other chair. “I thought you might want some company. Everyone seems so mad out there, and as usual, nobody tells me what’s going on, so I thought I’d bring you a plant.” She stared at Adare. “Immortals aren’t supposed to go into comas.”

“I know.” Grace sat back, keeping Adare’s hand. The young girl was supposedly a prophet, whatever that meant. “Do you know anything? I mean, can you read his mind?”

Hope didn’t laugh at her. “No. I can’t read minds, and I don’t know anything about Adare. Sometimes fate whispers to me, but it’s usually not helpful, not anything I want to know about. I honestly just thought I’d check on you.”