ATASHA’S POV


    “Mydy, the rumors outside…”


    <b>78 </b>


    55 vouchers


    “Don’t mind it, Rio,” I cut him off. “They can say what they want. None of it matters. All I care about is that Cassian wakes up.”


    We sat in the living room. The fire in the hearth was low, giving just enough warmth to cut the chill that seeped through the wooden walls. Beyond the door, I could hear faint footsteps, guards changing posts, but inside, it was only the three of us.


    I rubbed my temple and looked across at Mendez. “I don’t understand what’s happening. He should be healing. I pulled out the poison. His body has always recovered quickly, faster than any of us. But this time…” My voice trailed off. “This time, he isn’t waking up.”


    Mendez’s shoulders slumped. He looked tired, his hands stained from hours of work. “This is the first time I’ve seen something like it,” he admitted. “Its been days. His body is stable. Everything from his breathing, pulse, temperature, all steady. But it’s as if something keeps him froming back to full consciousness. Almost like he’s trapped in between.”


    Rio leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, brow furrowed. “Could it be the curse? Maybe the witch who shot him failed to kill him outright. What if the curse didn’t end, just got stuck inside him? Holding him down.”


    The thought made my stomach tighten. I turned to Mendez. “Is that even possible?”


    He hesitated, then gave a grim nod. “It is possible. Curses are dangerous because they don’t follow the naturalws of poison or medicine. As long as a witch sacrifices enough blood, they can forge a curse to do nearly anything, rot the organs, burn the veins, blind the mind. But there’s one rule they all share.”


    “And that is<b>?</b>” I pressed.


    “They only destroy,” Mendez said tly. “Curses don’t heal. They can’t give strength, only strip it away. Which means if he isn’t waking, the curse is still clinging to him in some form. Hidden and probably waiting.”


    Silence fell. The only sound was the faint crack of the firewood in the hearth.


    I exhaled, long and heavy. “Then I’ll stay with him.”


    Mendez looked at me carefully. “Mydy, you don’t have to. You could return to the manor, keep the household steady until we-”


    78


    <b>55 </b>vouchers


    “No,” I cut in. “I came here for one reason, to be his wife. That means I take care of him, not hand him off when it’s inconvenient. The council and the servants can wait. My task is him.”


    For a moment, Mendez simply watched me. Then he gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable.


    I stood and made my way toward the staircase. My steps were heavy, but my decision wasn’t. Reaching the second floor, I paused at the door before pushing it open.


    The room smelled faintly of smoke and blood, but most of it had been cleaned. Cassiany stretched across the bed, his frame almost toorge for it, his chest rising and falling in shallow rhythm. The bandages had been changed, his skin pale under themplight.


    I moved closer, pulling the chair to the bedside and lowering myself into it. For a long while, I just looked at him, the man who terrified half the north and who nowy still, unmoving, almost fragile in a way I’d never seen before.


    I reached out and brushed my fingers across the back of his hand. It was warm, alive, but unresponsive.


    “I’ll stay,” I whispered. “Whether you wake or not, I’ll be here.”


    Despite everything, a part of me still thinks that the Physician is hiding something about Cassian. Mendez sounded reluctant to tell me about it.


    Slowly, I tightened my hold on his hand and let my energy seep in again. Not the way I normally healed, but something closer to an assessment. I had never tried it on anyone else, not like this, but if there was something hidden inside his body, I wanted to find it.


    The warmth spread through his chest, down his arms, and into his core. I traced the flow of his blood, the steady beat of his heart, the rhythm of his lungs. Everything was functioning, steady and strong. No poison left. No torn vessels. No foreign threads to cut out.


    I pushed deeper, searching for anything irregr. Nothing. His body was clean. Normal. Almost too normal for a man who had just fought death.


    After what felt like forever, I let his hand go. A sigh escaped me, “There’s nothing wrong with you,” I muttered, staring at him.


    But I didn’t believe it.


    The memory from the cave still wed at the back of my mind. Cassian’s hand locked around my throat, his eyes glowing red, his voice telling me to leave before he copsed. I hadn’t told anyone about it. How could I? How could I exin something I didn’t understand myself? Even now, the image of his eyes, was burned into me.


    <b>78 </b>


    55 vouchers


    I looked at him again. His face was calm, lips pale, jaw rxed. He looked like he was only sleeping. But what if it wasn’t sleep? What if something was still inside him, buried where I couldn’t reach?


    My hand hovered over his chest before I pulled it back. I didn’t know what else to try.


    “What’s wrong with you?” I whispered, my voice tight. “Why won’t you wake up?”


    And then, his body shifted.


    His eyelids twitched, then slowly lifted. Relief struck me for half a heartbeat, but it froze instantly when I saw them.


    Not gray. Not cold steel.


    Red.


    Blood red, the same as in the cave.


    I went rigid in my chair, my breath caught in my throat. Cassian’s gaze locked on me, unblinking, his irises glowing like something alive had taken root behind them.


    Almost immediately, his hand shot up and mped around my throat. The pressure was strong enough to cut my breath short.


    I jerked back, the chair scraping hard against the floor, but it was already toote. His grip tightened, dragging me forward until my chest pressed against the edge of the bed.


    “Cassian-” I croaked, wing at his wrist. His strength was steady, unshaken, nothing like a man who had been unconscious moments ago.


    AD