"Batu."

He was already headed back towards me. I struggled to focus on him.

"You are not well," he observed. His features were blurry.

"I think I have an … infection."

With little finesse, he hauled me off my horse onto his. "We cannot stop here. I know a place where we'll be safe close to here."

"Hot," I complained and shifted in front of him.

"No fussing, lamb," he said, amused. He rested one hand on my clammy forehead. "You are fevered."

"Don't cut off my hand," I whispered.

He said something else, but it slid through my thoughts and out. My eyes closed. I was overheating and beginning to shiver.

This can't be how it ends.




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