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“More or less,” Obryn responded.

That was more than a month ago. She couldn’t fall apart. She had to focus. But she was terrified of what she would find when she coin traveled. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too hot.

“Am I too late?” she asked in a weak voice, fearing his answer.

Obryn hadn’t heard from him in about a week. Aidric’s will had been released.

The Highmage was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was uncharacteristically soft. “He’s always been on borrowed time.”

When she had the medical kit stocked, she took a steadying breath.

She flipped her coin to travel. Home.

—

The first thing she noticed was the sound of waves in the distance. Mira stood in a house by the seaside, and through the window, she could see water crashing against a white cliff.

Her heartbeat was in her throat. Every second seemed to stretch into eternity because she knew every second counted.

She was terrified to move—aside from the far-off waves, it was quiet. Too quiet. A deafening silence that suffocated her.

Gingerly, she stepped back. Her heels hit glass bottles. Empty direweed vials and whiskey bottles were scattered around the floor.

And then she saw him. Her heart stopped.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

Aidric lay on the floor, his head propped up against the wall. Black veins spidered against his pale skin. A sign of the progression of Dark Magic poisoning.

And he was so still. So very still.

In one hand he held a half-empty whiskey bottle, in the other a picture of her.

An agonizing scream tore through her lungs.

She didn’t need to cast a diagnostics spell to know. Aidric Dawson’s heart was no longer beating.

55

For a moment, the world stopped as Mira stared at his lifeless body, slumped against the wall.

She rushed to him, feeling for a pulse, but there was none and his skin was cold.

“No,” she said between sobs.

Her lungs seized and burned. Her vision blurred. She was prepared for a panic attack. With shaking hands, she cast a calming spell on herself.

Breathe, she commanded herself, but all it did was spark a memory of her having a panic attack when Aidric had held her in his arms. Breathe…. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.

But now he wasn’t holding her. He wasn’t able to tell her that everything was going to be okay. And she hadn’t been there for him when he was in the agonizing final stages of Dark Magic poisoning.

Gently, she moved his head to the floor so he was lying flat.

If only she could get his heart to start beating again. Who knew how long it had been?

She tried not to look at his face. Tried to pretend he was just another patient she was trying to save during the war and not Aidric. Her Aidric.

She started with electric surge spells, charging them higher and higher. Each time his body lifted only to collapse lifelessly again.