“You’re welcome,” she answers. “And just so you know what’s going on, you’re in Katmere Academy’s infirmary, where you’ve been for the last two days. I’m Nurse Alma, and I’ve been taking care of you along with Marise. Like I said earlier, you’re pretty banged up and you lost a lot of blood. Plus you have a dislocated shoulder, so now that you’re awake and moving around, Marise will probably be splinting it up for a while. But overall, you’re in good health. Jaxon got you here before the blood loss could do any permanent damage. You’re going to be fine in a few days.”

I know I should care about what she’s saying and I will…soon. “What about Jaxon?” I ask anxiously. “He was stabbed. He lost a lot of blood, too. Is he—”

“From what I understand, you took care of him quite well. But let me get him so you can calm down. He can tell you how he is while I call your uncle and let him know you’re awake.”

I watch anxiously as Alma walks through the door into the hallway. She’s speaking softly, so I can’t hear what she’s saying, but seconds later Jaxon bounds through the door. Alive and reasonably well.

Relief sweeps through me, and I finally feel like I can take a real breath. I mean, yeah, he looks like hell—or at least, as close to hell as someone like him can look—but he’s alive. And walking under his own power. That has to count for something.

As he gets closer, I realize his complexion is still a little gray, which makes his scar stand out against his cheek in stark relief. He also seems like he’s lost at least five pounds in the two days I’ve been asleep. Which is impossible, I know, but he looks so tired and thin and worn out—nothing like the force of nature I’m used to.

“You’re awake,” he says, and for a second I swear I see tears in his dark eyes. But then he blinks and there’s nothing but strength there…and something else I don’t even try to interpret. Not when my head is spinning and I can barely keep my eyes open.

“Come here,” I tell him, holding my hands out to him. As I look down at them, I notice my wrists are wrapped in gauze and the many cuts on my hands and arms seem to be sealed with a shiny liquid bandage. I’m a mess, but at least I’m a sterilized mess.

He moves closer, but he doesn’t sit on the bed. And he doesn’t touch me. “I don’t want to jostle your shoulder—”

“My shoulder is fine,” I tell him, which isn’t even a lie right now, courtesy of whatever drugs or herbs or spells Alma currently has going on with me. “So come here. Or I’m coming to you.”

I kick the covers down in preparation to do just that, then wince as the motion aggravates my raw ankles—which it turns out are also wrapped. Big surprise.

To be honest, I’m beginning to feel a little like a mummy here. And an unwanted one at that, if Jaxon’s reaction to me is any indication.

“Stay where you are,” he barks as he takes another couple of steps toward me.

“Then get over here and tell me what’s going on,” I say. “Because I’m beginning to feel like I’ve got the plague or something.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem here. You’ve got the plague.” But at least he takes my outstretched hand this time as he settles himself gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t be snarky,” I say as I rest my forehead on his shoulder. “I did save your life, after all. You should be nice to me.”

“Yeah, and I repaid you for that kindness by nearly killing you, so you should want me as far from you as I can get.”

I roll my eyes, even as exhaustion threatens to swamp me. “Are you always such a drama queen, or do you just trot it out on special occasions?”

The look of shock on his face is priceless. And so is the snitty tone in his voice when he answers, “I don’t think being concerned about you makes me a drama queen.”

“No, but taking on all the blame for what was obviously Lia’s giant head trip, does.” I press a couple of kisses to his neck, reveling in the way he can’t stop himself from shivering at the first touch of my lips to his skin. “So chill out a little, will you? I’m tired.”

His eyebrows disappear under his crazily messed up hair, and I realize it’s the first time since I’ve met him that I’ve ever seen his hair anything less than perfect. “You want me to chill out?” he repeats.

“I do.” I scoot over to make room for him on the bed, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out as I jostle my shoulder in the process. “Now climb on.” I pat the bed next to me.

Jaxon looks from my face to the bed and back again, but he doesn’t move. Which makes me sigh and say, “Come on. You know you want to.”

“I want a lot of things that aren’t good for you.”

“What a coincidence. So do I, though I’m pretty sure we’ll disagree on what’s good for me and what isn’t.”

He sighs. “Grace—”

“Don’t.” I cut him off. “Please, Jaxon, just don’t. Not now, when I’m too tired to argue with you. Do I need to spell it out for you? I need you to hold me.”

And just like that, his resistance melts. Instead of arguing, he settles back against the pillows with me and wraps me in his arms, taking care not to bother my injured shoulder.

We lie like that—in silence—for several minutes, and I don’t truly relax until he rests his cheek against the top of my head and presses kisses into my hair.

“I’m glad we’re okay.”

“Yeah.” His laugh is harsh. “Me too.”

“Don’t say it like that,” I tell him. “We’re lucky.”

“You don’t look so lucky right now.”

“Yeah, well neither do you. But we are.” I take a deep breath, let it out slowly. “We could be…” I trail off, unable to say the words.

“Dead, like Lia and Hudson?” Jaxon fills in the blanks for me.

“Yeah. And we’re not, so I count that as a win.”

He pauses for a minute, but then he nods. Sighs. “Yeah, me too.”

“Flint?” I ask after a second.

“You don’t want to talk to me about the dragon right now.”

“I know,” I soothe, running my right hand up and down his arm for comfort.

“He’s alive, if that’s what you’re asking. And currently in better shape than either one of us, though he shouldn’t be.”

“He thought he was doing the right thing.”