Page 185 of The Fifth Heir

“I’m staying,” he said.

The healer’s instruction made staying necessary. The finality in Torren’s voice made it a choice. He was not accepting the task because the others had somewhere to be; he had already decided no one else would take his place.

No one argued.

The others left after making me promise to call them if the pain returned. Rafe kissed my forehead. Sebastian touched my uninjured hand, and I called him Bastian quietly enough that only he heard.

Leander stopped in the terrace doorway.

Our eyes met.

He inclined his head and left without speaking.

Torren waited until the Fifth Wing’s outer door closed.

“Bath or bed?”

“I’m not a child.”

“Those remain the available choices.”

“I can sit in the common room.”

“After the healer ordered rest.”

“Sitting is rest.”

“You catalog artifacts while sitting.”

“I don’t have anything to catalog.”

“You’ll find something.”

He knew me too well already.

“Bath,” I said.

The bathing-room water warmed when Torren entered. He tested it with one hand, adjusted the temperature, and placed clean towels beside the private alcove.

“I can bathe myself.”

“I know.”

“Are you leaving?”

“I’ll be outside the curtain.”

“That is not leaving.”

“The healer said observation.”

“She didn’t mean while I’m naked.”

The wall runes turned gold.

Torren looked at them.

“They have questionable timing.”