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Lyros reached out to steady him. “Her heart is still beating!”
It seemed impossible. But Lio could hear it too, such a normal sound, pounding in his ears.
“Is the Collector still here?” Lyros asked. “Do you still need thelemantic wards?”
“No.” Lio’s own voice sounded far away from him. “He’s nowhere in Hadrian’s camp.”
The Collector had left Pakhne alive. But without her magic, what kind of life would it be?
“I want everyone inside one ward,” Lyros said.
“Pakhne is too fragile to step.”
“We’ll have to run, then. Stay close to me!”
The ring of blood around them disappeared in a flash of light, and Lyros urged Lio ahead of him. He raced for the other side of the tent with Pakhne in his arms, Lyros and his wards following.
Heat prickled his skin. They blurred past a ring of fire. Lio let out an astonished curse at what he saw within. Solia and Lord Hadrian were locked in single combat.
He made it into the safety of Mak’s ring of blood. Mak plucked Pakhne from his hold.
Then the scent of roses and cinnamon overtook the stench of fire and death. Cassia slid under Lio’s arm, supporting him, and pressed her wrist to his lips.
He bit into her tender flesh. The sweetness of her blood chased the taste of necromancy from his mouth. He reached for their Union, and her mind embraced him.
She stroked his face as he drank. “You’re back with us.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tightly against him. His surging thelemancy prowled through her mind ward before he could stop it, reassuring him she was still here. Still safe.
“Yes,” she gasped. “I’m all right.”
Lio dragged in a long draught of her blood, feeling her shiver against him. But their Union dragged at him in return. She didn’t want to let him go. His every instinct was to give her what she wanted. Needed.
“One more swallow,” Lyros warned, “then I’m prying you off of her.”
Lio tore himself from their Union and Willed himself to seal her vein. He raised his head and made himself focus on Pakhne. Mak had placed her on a cot next to Perita’s. Callen sat with his wife, rocking her against his chest, while a woman Lio didn’t recognize held the child. Knight stood guard, prowling the boundaries of the ward.
“Pakhne is alive,” Cassia said. “You saved her.”
“No. I didn’t.” Lio shook his head. He couldn’t bear to say the words aloud.
“What’s wrong?” Cassia asked.
Mak and Lyros must have sensed the change in Pakhne’s aura, judging by their horror pervading the Blood Union.
Lyros said, “Her magic is gone.”
“The Collector left her alive…but took her magic?” Mak looked to Lio.
He nodded in silence. The color drained from Cassia’s face.
Just then, Pakhne’s eyes came open, and she gave a querying moan. Her cowl had fallen back, and Lio could see her clearly. Her fine-boned face, her winged brows. Her tousled hair, the same color as Zoe’s. She looked no older than Cassia.
“You’re safe,” Lio soothed. Such meaningless words, but he would give her what comfort he could. “We’re here to help. Just rest.”
She put a hand to her head, grimacing. Her thoughts shifted, and her aura stirred. The same way Lio’s did every time he awoke, when he stretched his magic as instinctively as his arms or legs.
Pakhne gasped. Then again. Her hand went to her chest, and her fingers closed around the front of her robes like claws.
