Page 114 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

“She needs to eat.” Marel’s voice cuts through. “While she’s awake. She’s lost too much blood to keep sleeping through meals.”

I look down at Gemma. She’s fading again, exhaustion pulling at her.

“Gemma.” I brush the hair from her face. “You need to eat something.”

She makes a small sound of protest and doesn’t even open her eyes.

Grier appears beside us and kneels. He’s already holding the bowl of broth, a spoon ready. He meets my eyes, and understanding passes between us. This man. I don’t have words for the depth of gratitude I have for him.

“Gemma.” I bring the spoon to her lips. “Open for me.”

She barely parts her lips, but it’s enough. I tip the broth in slowly. We fall into a rhythm, Grier holding the bowl, me focused entirely on her. We get half the bowl into her before her head lolls against my chest.

“She’s asleep,” Grier says quietly. “That’s enough for now. She kept more down than I expected.”

I look at him and finally ask what I’ve been holding since the snow. “What happened out there? What pulled us under the ground?”

He’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “I don’t know. I’ve seen nobles use magic for years. That wasn’t like any magic I’ve ever seen before. Have you?”

I shake my head. Grier’s hand finds my shoulder, gripping firm and steady, the way he held me so many times before. The tightness I’ve been carrying loosens at the contact.

“She’s safe, and that’s what matters,” he says.

I nod. I can’t speak, the exhaustion is hitting me now, crashing over me in waves.

Grier drags a chair behind me and tucks a pillow behind my head.

“Get some rest, Rye. She’s stable. She’s in your arms.”

I want to argue, but my eyes are already heavy. I let my head fall back and eyes drift closed. The last thing I see is Grier’s face in the firelight, watching over us both.

Soft golden morning light wakes me, streaming through the cabin’s single window.

I blink, disoriented. My neck aches, my back is stiff, and every muscle in my body strains from holding myself upright this long. But Gemma is against my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat steady against me.

“Rye?”

My heart stops. I look down. Her eyes are open, not glassy or delirious, not unfocused with pain. She’s looking at me and actually seeing me.

“Rye, where are we?”

For a moment, I can’t speak, can’t breathe. The relief is so overwhelming it nearly drowns me.

“Gemma—” Her name comes out shattered. I cup her face with trembling hands, my thumb brushing her cheek. She came back to me.

“You’re awake.” My voice cracks. “You’re really awake.”

I want to kiss her. Want to pull her against me and never let go. Want to tell her everything, how scared I was, how I thought I’d lost her. But I don’t want to hurt her or jostle her ribs. So, I just hold her face and look at her and try to remember how to breathe.

Grier stirs beside us, pushing himself up from the floor, instantly alert.

“Gemma?” He’s at our side in a heartbeat, kneeling, his eyes scanning her face. The same relief I feel is written across his features. “How do you feel? Are you in pain?”

She blinks at him, then she takes in the cabin. The two of us hover over her like she might disappear.

“What…” She winces and swallows. “What happened?”

The question hits me like a blow. Suddenly, I’m not in this cabin anymore. I’m screaming her name until my throat tears. I’m in the snow, holding her broken body, watching her blood soak into the white. Begging her to stay with me. Begging her not to leave. My chest constricts so tight I can’t breathe.