My body heats from the inside out, and I can feel myself sparking with energy. The light in the room becomes blinding, forcing Admon to shield his eyes, and I realize it’s because I’m glowing so brilliantly. Power like I’ve never experienced slams through my body, knocking me flat on my face. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to exercise the control I’ve honed over centuries. Though it’s difficult, I wrestle the aether pulsing through me into my firm grasp, then focus my attention on Thorne. A thread connects his body to mine, so clear with this boost in magic that a sob of relief pushes against my throat. As long as he’s tethered to me, I know he’ll live.

I place my hand over the wound on his thigh, and I swear the blood that coats my hands—Thorne’s blood—shimmers, but I don’t stop to consider what it could mean. I surround the wound with the strongest water, light, and plant healing magic I know how to conjure, somehow also knowing through some deeply seeded knowledge that I can coax his own light to follow my command to heal him. I pump aether into him, praying the extra power I gave him with his own dose of concentrate will also aid in quick healing. Skin slowly stitches itself back together, and I cry out in joy. Then I flip him over and heal the wounds in his shoulder and back, repeating the process of gathering as much aether as I can and guiding it into him through every conduit available to me. When I lay him back down, color has returned to his face, and the fevered sweat that dotted his brow is gone.

Slowly, Thorne opens his eyes, though he has to immediately close them again. “You’re glowing like a star, witchling,” he rasps out, and I huff out a small chuckle, not quite ready to laugh at his usual quips until I know for sure that he is okay.

“Look down at yourself, princeling,” I murmur. His eyes widen at his own ethereal glow as he lifts his hand and turns it over to observe the effect. He closes his eyes again, slumping from the exertion of raising his arm. Even though I know it will take him more than a few minutes to fully recover, panic rises to my throat, but I push it down. With a deep breath, Thorne’s brows furrow in concentration for a moment before the light making him glow winks out.

“What happened?” he asks, and my heart breaks. I don’t want to recount the last several hours, don’t want to admit I’m the reason his best friends aren’t with us.

“The rebels attacked us at the festival,” I start, but he cuts me off.

“I remember all of that. What happened to make me glow and you shine like a fucking sun?”