"You're okay," I manage, even though my legs are trying to give out. "You're okay now."
He stares at me like he's seeing a ghost.
Then his gaze shifts past me, and I watch horror dawn across his face as he takes in the bodies. The blood.
His men, backing away from him slowly, weapons still raised.
"No." His voice is raw. "No, I didn't—tell me I didn't—"
"My lord." Rurik steps forward carefully, like approaching a spooked horse. "Most of them are Crown soldiers. We only lost three of ours, and that was before—" He stops. Swallows. "You were defending us. The curse just... got away from you."
Vorak's hands are shaking. Covered in blood.
"I could have killed you," he says, looking at me. "Iwantedto. The curse wanted—"
"But you didn't." I try to go to him, but my legs finally give out.
The world tilts.
Then strong arms catch me—Vorak, moving faster than should be possible for someone who just came back from the edge of madness.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, holds me against his chest.
"I've got you," he rasps. "I've got you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"
His voice is breaking.
I want to tell him it's not his fault. Want to tell him I'm not afraid.
But the darkness is rising, soft and inevitable, and I'm sotired.
The last thing I see before it takes me is the Crown soldiers—the ones still alive—scrambling over each other in their retreat, stumbling toward the broken gate.
Running from whatever I just did.
Fromme.
I wakein Vorak's bed.
Not my room. Not the infirmary.
Hischambers.
The bed is massive, piled with furs that smell like pine and leather and him. The fire is burning low in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across stone walls.
Every muscle in my body feels like it's been wrung out and beaten.
I try to sit up and fail spectacularly, flopping back against the pillows with a groan that's half pain, half frustration.
"Don't."
His voice comes from somewhere to my left.
I turn my head—carefully, because even that hurts—and find him.
Vorak is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, as far from the bed as he can get while still being in the same room. His knees are drawn up, arms resting on them, head bowed.
He's changed clothes. Washed the blood off.
