“It won’t help her. It will help you.”
Giving enough blood to begin the transition had depleted him, and the tether continued drawing on what remained. The hunger cutting through him was no longer ordinary appetite.
He forced a measured breath through his nose.
“How long will this last?”
“Until the transition settles.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is the only one I have.”
Leena watched the woman’s pulse flutter at her throat.
“She’ll make it through.”
Rhen accepted the assessment without answering, unwilling to examine why the possibility of failure made the tether constrict.
Leena took the crushed herbs and poured heated water over them. Once the infusion had steeped, she cooled the cloth within it and pressed it against the woman’s forehead and wrists.
Rhen remained at the washstand.
He did not move closer.
Gradually, the woman’s convulsions eased. Her breathing remained shallow and labored, but the fever dipped enough to register through the tether.
Not enough to trust.
Leena placed the cloth back into the bowl.
“You need blood.”
“I heard you the first time.”
“You ignored me the first time.”
Rhen’s mouth curled.
“Careful, Queen.”
“I’m always careful.”
She stepped away, giving him room without comment.
Rhen’s gaze remained fixed on the bed.
Leena moved toward the door, slowly but steadily.
“I’ll return.”
“Don’t.”
She glanced back at him.
“You need blood, and I know precisely where the bags are kept.”
“Send Mary.”
