Maevus' knees decided to quit on her just as she reached the bed's footboard. She clutched at the wood, using the wall to slide down so she didn't hit the floor quite so hard. Her vision was tunneling and she felt lightheaded, her breath coming too quickly.

"You always gotta overdo it, don't ya?" Vraylor's voice floated down from somewhere above her. Strong hands gripped her wrists, gently pulling her forward until an arm could be wrapped around her shoulders.

Vraylor lifted her to her feet, taking most of her weight as he led her over to a chair. Maevus plopped down onto the cushion. Her hands and feet felt tingly and numb. She closed her eyes, her mouth dry as a summer desert. Every muscle felt weak and shaky.

"Lorn, go get Naghi," Vraylor said, his boots thumping on the floorboards as he moved back toward the bed. "Bring him and Sav if he's shown up."

The door slammed shut behind him and Maevus battled to open her eyes. When she finally managed it and blinked the blurriness away, she found Vraylor standing over the bed, his arms crossed and a frown on his face as he looked down at Voron.

"What's..." She sucked in a breath. "What's wrong with him?"

Vraylor looked over his shoulder, then returned his attention to the bed. "Nothin' good."

Still struggling to keep her eyes open, she tried to lean forward, the first step in getting back to her feet. Vraylor pointed a threatening finger, not even bothering to look at her. Scowling, Maevus sank back into the chair.

"He has a fever," she said.

"Mm-hm." Vraylor crossed his arms again, leaning against the wall. He finally turned that cool gaze toward her.

She remembered how Voron had cried out in pain when she'd touched him. "I think he has a wound on his shoulder."

"Maybe so."

Her temper spiked, not quite as hot as usual. Her magic reserve was still so low, she could barely feel the threads around her heart. "Well, why don't you take off his uniform and have a look?"

"He's not exactly my type, girlie."

Maevus rolled her eyes. "To see what's wrong with him."

"Naghi'll do that," Vraylor said. "He's Medica-Charmed and your Imp here'll be in much kinder, gentler hands with him than with me."

"Why do you keep calling him that?" Maevus asked, annoyed. 

Vraylor gave her a dry look. "He's an Imperial guard."

"I—" She growled under her breath. "I understand that. Why do you all keep calling him my Imp?"

Vraylor just raised a brow. "You're the one brought him here, ain't ya?"

It annoyed her even more that she couldn't refute that. She had brought Voron here, but that was mostly because she'd had no idea where else she could take him. Chewing at her lip, she dropped her gaze from the master to Voron. "He's here because of me."

"Yes?" Vraylor drew the word out, making it a question and a mockery all at the same time.

"No, I mean..." She sighed and waved a hand toward the guard. "Whatever is making him like this, he's like it because of me." She touched the hilt of the sword. "Because of this."

Vraylor didn't say anything. He just watched her in that steady way of his, waited for her to continue.

Maevus swallowed hard, her mouth feeling like she'd chewed her way through a field of cotton. "I told the queen." Vraylor's arms dropped, his hands coming to rest on his lean hips. Maevus lowered her gaze. "I didn't... I needed to get it back. I didn't trust that he'd... I didn't trust him."

Tears suddenly burned her eyes and she squeezed them shut, hands fisting loosely in her lap. Vraylor didn't say anything for a long time. A hand on her shoulder made her flinch and she opened her eyes to find Vraylor crouched down in front of her. Battling furiously against more tears, she frowned at him.

"It's not your fault."

Maevus' frown deepened to a scowl. She opened her mouth, but didn't get the chance to argue. The door creaked open, a long-limbed figure striding into the room, a black bag in his hand. 

Lorn and Savrin were on his heels, crowding into the corner of the room. Lorn wrapped an arm around Savrin's waist, resting his chin on Sav's shoulder. Both of them kept distrustful eyes pinned on Voron.

The newcomer stopped in the middle of the room, frowning at the still figure on the bed. At his uniform.

"Do what you can, Naghi," Vraylor said, uncoiling to his full height. "After that, Miss Kildaren's up and about. Sorta. You might wanna take a look at her, too."

Curious, Maevus peered around the master to find Naghi looking at her with a smile. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar—like a face she'd seen in her dreams. He was a tall, thin man, almost stork-like with a narrow, sharp face. His cheekbones looked seconds away from bursting through his dark brown skin.

His rich, dark eyes were kind when he looked at Maevus, but turned wary when they fell on Voron. "What's wrong with him?"

"Well, that's what we called you up here for," Vraylor said, propping an elbow on the back of Maevus' armchair. "Would you mind taking a look at him? He dropped unconscious right in front of the guild."

Naghi's nose wrinkled. "And we don't need to give them anymore excuses." He sighed heavily. "I'll see what I can do."

He moved toward the bed, bending gracefully to press a few long fingers to Voron's throat. He frowned, then moved his hand to Voron's cheek. His frown deepened more and more, carving lines in his forehead and around his mouth. Maevus leaned forward, watching intently. 

"I think he has a wound on his back," Maevus offered. The Medica tilted his head, his fingers drifting to the nape of Voron's neck. He closed his eyes, a faint blue light glowing around his fingertips.

"Help me get his uniform off," Naghi said, eyes flicking toward Vraylor. 

The master pushed off Maevus' chair and bent over the bed with Naghi, helping the other man to roll Voron onto his side. Maevus flinched at the low, pained moan that elicited. She couldn't see around them, but assumed they were undoing the buttons down the front of his uniform.

Eventually, they managed to peel it off of him and lay him back down on his stomach. Vraylor swore and stepped back. Naghi set his bag on the bedside table, undoing the clasp at the top and rummaging inside it for a moment. He withdrew a pair of silvery scissors and began cutting away Voron's white shirt.

"Maevus, why don't we get you back to your room," Savrin said gently, his eyes huge in a pale face as he stared at Voron. Even Lorn looked concerned, his brows furrowed and his hand fisted in the loose material of Savrin's shirt.

"No." She scooted to the edge of the chair, leaning forward so she could peer around Naghi.

He had just worked his way through the collar of Voron's shirt when Maevus got her first glimpse. A horrified breath rushed from her lungs and she staggered to her feet. Vraylor caught her before she could make it any closer to the bed.

"No, no. Give Naghi room to work."

Tears streaked down her face and she clung to Vraylor, letting him support her weight as she leaned forward, forcing herself to see what had been done to the guard. 

Whip marks scored his back, eight bright red lines, each weeping blood and a clear, viscous fluid. The skin around them was inflamed and angry-looking. Dark veins traced along the edges of the wounds.

"Oh gods," Maevus said, a sob putting pressure on her throat.

"These are infected," Naghi said, his voice cool and calm. "They don't look very old. My guess is they don't clean the whip."

Maevus shuddered, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Will it kill him?" Vraylor asked.

Naghi passed a hand over Voron's back, floating just above the shredded skin. "You all need to leave. All except Savrin." He looked over his shoulder at the Encant. "I'll need your help drawing the poison from his blood."

Throat bobbing, Savrin gave a shaky nod. Lorn whispered something in his ear and Savrin turned, fixing a hard glare on the Metal-Charmed Encant. Lorn held up a hand in surrender, shaking his head irritably. 

"Out," Naghi ordered again. "Let me work." He was already pulling supplies from his bag, antiseptics and rolls of cotton gauze. 

Maevus didn't resist as Vraylor hustled her out of the room, Lorn a few reluctant steps behind them. She didn't have the heart to sit and watch as Naghi worked on Voron's wounds. Tears kept spilling down her face, uncontrollable. The threads tugged around her heart again, her dragons starting to feel frantic as they sensed her distress. 

She wasn't aware of the guild as it passed around her. It came as a surprise when she found herself sitting on the edge of her own bed, Vraylor sitting beside her.

"Sh, Maevus, sh," he soothed, one hand stroking her hair, his arm around her. Maevus buried her face against his chest, shaking as she tried to suppress more sobs. "I won't make any promises," Vraylor said. "But Naghi has more talent in his pinky finger than all the healers at the University Hospital put together. He'll take care of your—of..."

"Voron," she whispered. "Voron Morna."

"He'll take care of Voron as best he can."

Maevus squeezed her eyes shut, leaning against Vraylor. The warmth from his body kept the shivers of fear away. His arm around her kept her from collapsing and she could hear the steady thud of his heart echo through his chest.

It had been a long time since she'd let someone comfort her. It had been a long time since there had been someone to offer comfort.

It wasn't long before her eyelids began to grow heavy, her body no longer able to sustain the stress. She pushed away from Vraylor and curled up on her side, her head on the edge of the pillow.

The soft thud of boots and the dimming of the light marked Vraylor's passage out of the room. The door closed most of the way, staying open just long enough for him to whisper, "I'll wake you if anythin' happens."