He wiped the moisture from her cheek—water, or blood, or maybe just a lie he needed to believe.
Then—there.
A flicker beneath his hand.
It was almost nothing, just the barest flutter in her chest, but he felt it. A shift. A pause. And then her body shuddered as she pulled in a breath. Shallow. Weak.
Then another breath. Slightly deeper.
His chest heaved, and he touched his forehead to hers, swallowing the jagged sound that rose in him like a sob. But it wasn’t a sob. He wouldn’t allow it. His voice cracked instead—just once—as he breathed into her ear:
“Breathe. That’s all you need to do. Just breathe.”
She did.
Another breath. Then another.
His hand slid to her ribs, feeling the subtle rise and fall of each one. “That’s it,” he whispered, rocking her. “One breath at a time.”
More hours passed.
Zarrek eventually slipped out of the tent, silent as a shadow. Thessia followed not long after, pausing at the flap with one last glance over her shoulder. Her face was grim, set. “I’ll gather supplies,” she murmured. “We’ll need to warm her properly once she can be moved.”
Resh didn’t look up. Didn’t budge. He nodded once, holding Auryn as though she might vanish if he let go. The hours stretched. The tent dimmed as daylight waned. Shadows grew long. When Zarrek and Thessia returned, their arms were full—dry towels, warming stones, furs, even a bit of emberroot for the firepit.
“She can’t stay in the water,” Zarrek said, voice low.
“Resh, let’s get her out,” Thessia added gently, like she knew if she spoke too fast, he might break. Already, she was moving to start a fire near the bath. “We’ll stoke the coals hot and wrap her tight.”
Thessia knelt beside the steaming tub, a stack of linens and a folded nightgown in her arms. She placed them with care, brushing damp strands of hair from Auryn’s brow.
“She’s stable,” she said, glancing up at Resh. “We need to get her dry now. Come on. Help me lift her.”
He didn’t move at first. His arms were locked around Auryn, as if the moment he let go, the breaths they’d fought for—prayed for—might scatter like mist. Thessia laid a gentle hand on his forearm.
“She’s safe now, Resh,” she said, quieter. “Let’s keep her that way.”
He shifted finally, rising from the water in one smooth motion with Auryn held against his chest. His tunic and trousers clung to his frame, dripping when he stepped over the edge. Steam sighed and spiraled around them as he moved.
Thessia and Zarrek worked in tandem, spreading thick furs beside the fire. Together, they adjusted the blankets as Resh lowered Auryn down onto the soft surface. The shock of cool air prickled her skin, and Resh immediately reached to warm her with his hands, but Thessia stayed him with a quiet shake of her head.
“I’ll tend to her. You hold the linens.”
He did as asked—unable to speak—kneeling beside the pile as Thessia moved with calm efficiency. His eyes followed her every motion, followed every rise and fall of Auryn’s chest.
Thessia peeled away the soaked shift clinging to Auryn’s small form, drying her with the soft cloths and muttering something under her breath about moonbeams and stubborn girls. She dressed her in the oversizednightgown. The sleeves hung past Auryn’s fingertips, the hem swallowed her feet, and the neckline gaped too wide for her small shoulders.
Together, they tucked her into the thickest of the furs. Resh smoothed her hair away from her face, then reached to adjust the collar of the nightgown around her neck, covering the black veins.
“She’ll be warmer soon,” Thessia said. “Once she’s wrapped in this heat long enough.”
Resh nodded, slow and silent. He didn’t look away from Auryn. Not even when Thessia placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Now you.”
He blinked, as if just remembering his own body. “No need.”
“No, you’re soaked, and sitting like that in this cold will do you no good.” She narrowed her eyes. “You want to help her? Change into something dry.”
