"But these are not normal circumstances," Lucien completed her thought, his voice dropping into a register that was flat, dry, and terrifyingly calm. The scholarly detachment he wore like armor felt heavier now, standardizing the gravity of a situation that threatened to tear their fragile victory apart from the inside out. He walked closer to the high wooden examination table, his leather boots clicking softly against the stone floor plates, his single grey eye locking onto Gwen's face with surgical precision. "Gwen, look at your hands."
Gwen slowly pulled her fingers out of Kaelen's thick, dark fur, lifting her palms into the dim, flickering torchlight of the apothecary wing.
