Varro's POV.
The bond vibrated through my body and went straight into my marrow. One second, I was leaning against the cold stone of the antechamber wall, and the next, the room began to tilt.
I was moving before I was conscious of it. My hand hit the heavy oak of his chamber door, pushing it open.
Kaelen was upright in the bed, his chest heaving as if he'd just run five miles through the Ridge snow. The blankets were tangled around his waist, and in the dim, dying light of the candles, his skin looked like parchment.
His eyes were wide, fixed on the empty air at the foot of his bed.
I was at the bedside in two strides. I didn't hesitate, I reached out, my fingers wrapping firmly around his wrist, my other hand pressing flat against the center of his chest.
"Kaelen. Breathe."
He gasped, his fingers digging into my forearm. His grip was bruising, but I stayed there, a physical anchor in a room that felt like it was spinning.
