Page 153
“Ascending.” Not a question. I’d seen enough—the faint gold beneath her skin, the thrum of power like a storm waiting to break.
“We thought so.”
“Past tense?”
“You’ve both been asleep for five days, Commander.”
“If what you’re describing is accurate, she expended a tremendous amount of energy.”
“Unheard of,” Kari agreed.
“After everything she’d already endured, it stands to reason she needs rest.”
“It’s just...”
“Yes?”
“No witch has ever done that.”
“I’ve seen rushed ascensions more than once. Sometimes a soul’s power bursts out like an explosion. Maybe not to the degree you’re describing, but we all knew she was immensely gifted.”
“Not the ascension, Commander. No witch has ever snatched a soul back from Death.”
I paused.
Beyond biblical times, I’d heard of exactly one other soul resurrecting a patient. “Where’s August?” Kari blinked at the abrupt turn, shaking her head as if to clear it. “August has experience with revival,” I explained.
“The Great Commander has been busy. He stepped into his role rather… assertively.”
“Any news on Ally?”
Her dark brows dipped as she turned to assess me. “You know?”
I blinked. Because I did know. Somehow. “You all aren’t nearly as quiet in this infirmary as you think.”
She smiled weakly, nodding like that made perfect sense. “Mr. Carter was not particularly mindful when he sat vigil.”
“No, he would not be.” I forced a chuckle that held no humor.
“I’ll get Nat. She can bring you up to speed.”
Kari rose on silent feet and padded toward the door. My heart lurched. “Kari?” She paused at the threshold. I forced the words up like bile. “Who else?”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, the pinch between her brows deepening.
“I think it’s best Nathara fills you in, Commander. I’ve mostly been here, so I haven’t received the briefings the Priestess has.”
“Aren?”
I nearly dropped the briefings the following afternoon. I’d barely managed to read them anyway, my mind preoccupied with the woman sleeping far too deeply beside me—and on how the fuck I was supposed to adjust my strategy to protect her. The last twenty-four hours had been one meeting after another, heated debates stacked between devastating reports from allies around the globe and messengers moving in and out without pause.
Her voice ripped me out of my half-hearted analysis faster than a bucket of ice water to the face.
The folder slapped onto the table as I rushed to her side. “Mags, baby, take it easy.” I gathered her limp hand between mine and pressed feather-light kisses to each delicate tattoo—partly desperate to feel her warmth, partly because I wasn’t sure I had the strength to look at her.
Her broken whimper crushed the cowardice out of me. I found those aquas glimmering, tears streaking down her temple and pooling along the bridge of her nose where she still lay on her side.
“Are you… is this real?” she rasped, her voice like gravel.
