Perry's POV
The warmth hit me first—a flutter of heat against my chest where Phoebe's lifeless body pressed against mine.
Impossible. I'd felt her die in my arms. Watched the light fade from her eyes. Held her as her heart stopped beating.
But now... now her chest was moving.
"No." The word ripped from my throat, raw and disbelieving. I pressed my ear to her sternum, hardly daring to breathe.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heart was beating. Slow, unsteady, but beating.
"MARCELA!" I roared, the sound echoing through the clearing like thunder. "GET OVER HERE NOW!"
Every warrior within a vast radius froze. They'd seen what I'd seen—their queen bleeding out, her body broken beyond repair. Some had already begun planning funeral rites.
Marcela scrambled across the muddy ground, her healer's bag clutched against her chest. Rain began to fall, turning the dirt beneath us into crimson-streaked mud.
