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“The doctor will want to debride,” Mira said quietly. “Remove the dead tissue. It’s going to hurt worse before it gets better.”

“How much worse?” Adeline asked.

Mira didn’t answer. She just kept working, her magic steady even as her hands shook.

August's presence pressed at my back. I’d positioned him in a chair by the door, and he sat exactly as I’d left him.

Footsteps on the stairs. Marigold burst in, followed by an older man carrying a black leather bag.

Dr. Crawford took one look at Adeline and his expression went grim.

“How long ago?” he asked, moving to the bedside.

“Perhaps forty minutes,” Mira said. “I’ve been maintaining pain suppression and preventing infection from setting in.”

The doctor glanced at her glowing hands, then at Adeline’s injuries. If he found the magic strange, he didn’t comment. “You’ve done well. The preliminary treatment is sound.” He opened his bag. “But I’ll need to clean the wounds properly. Remove any foreign matter. Some of this tissue won’t survive—we’ll need to excise it before necrosis sets in.”

He laid out his instruments. Scalpels. Forceps. Things that made my stomach turn.

“Will she keep her hands?” The question came from the doorway. Garrick, returned from checking on Beatrice.

Dr. Crawford examined Adeline’s burns more closely. “The fingers appear intact. The worst damage is to the palms and the backs of the hands.” He paused. “She’ll keep them. But there will be significant scarring. Loss of flexibility. Some permanent nerve damage is likely.”

Adeline made a sound—not quite a sob, not quite a laugh.

“Better than losing them,” Mira said quietly, speaking what Adeline couldn’t.

“Indeed.” The doctor looked at Mrs. Hartwick. “I’ll need hot water. Clean linens.”

“I’ll fetch it.” Mrs. Hartwick hurried out.

Mira stood, swaying slightly. The extended magical work was taking its toll. “I’ll need to release the pain suppression before you begin the debridement. My magic will interfere with the laudanum.”

“Understood.” Dr. Crawford laid out his instruments with careful precision. “Miss, can you hear me?”

Adeline nodded around the leather strap.

“This is going to be extraordinarily painful. The laudanum will help, but not entirely.” His voice was gentle but honest. “Do you have someone who can stay with you?”

“Me.” Garrick moved back to the bedside. “I’m staying.”

Adeline’s eyes found his, and her expression softened with the bone-deep relief of not being alone in this.

Mrs. Hartwick returned with the supplies. Dr. Crawford measured out laudanum and waited for Adeline to swallow it.

“Give it a few minutes to take effect,” he said.

The room fell silent except for Adeline’s ragged breathing.

I couldn’t watch this. Couldn’t stay in this room while they cut away the tissue the fire had destroyed.

“I’ll check on Beatrice,” I said quietly.

No one stopped me.

I guided August out of the room—he came without resistance, just a hollow shell that followed where I led—and into the sitting room where Beatrice lay on the settee.

She looked smaller somehow, frailer. Her silver hair spread across the cushion. But her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm.