"I'm not sure you should try to do this without Wren. You're in pain. You can try to hide it, but your skin tells the truth." Alaric's eyes drifted over Rowan's arm and the freckles that had darkened to a bloody shade of brown.
"And?" Rowan pushed himself to his feet. "Am I supposed to just let the poison have her, then? You know how rare new life has become. Wouldn't you want me to help if it was Loma lying there and the baby was yours?"
Alaric looked away, but not before Rowan saw the wistfulness in his eyes. "That's not what I'm saying."
"I know what you're saying. And I can handle more poison on my own. Don't worry about it."
"Seriously? Do you want to die?" Frustration pushed Alaric's voice to the breaking point. "I know you, Rowan. You have never cared if you hurt yourself if you thought it was your duty. But I *do* care. Maybe it's my fault for never making sure that you knew that before."
