DARLINGTON
The infirmary was cold.
Too damn cold!!
It had the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and stayed there. I had been sitting in this chair for hours. Maybe longer. I had lost track of time.
Finnian lay on the bed in front of me. His face was pale. His chest was wrapped in bandages. His breathing was shallow. His eyes were closed. He looked small. Fragile. Nothing like the beast that had torn through the corridor.
I had not slept, eaten or moved.
The door opened. I did not turn around. I did not need to. I knew who it was.
Jayce.
His footsteps were heavy. Deliberate. He walked to the foot of Finnian's bed. He looked down at our brother. His face was unreadable.
"Still sleeping?" he asked.
"He is healing," I said.
"He looks like a corpse."
"He is not a corpse. He is resting."
Jayce snorted. "Resting. That is one word for it."
I finally turned to look at him. His arms were crossed. His jaw was tight. His eyes were fixed on Finnian's face.
