Sybil was not going to give up. She couldn’t. She refused.
She was not going to sit there and watch the love of her life die. She had saved him once, and she was going to save him again. If not, she would die trying.
That is why she took shallow breaths and worked to stop her crying. She needed to focus. She needed to be able to see clearly and not shake if she was going to do this. If she was going to save Andrius.
She had one hand steadied right above where the wood had impaled Andrius, and one hand on the splinter that had barely missed his heart but pierced his lung.
“I need you to trust me,” she had told him, and she meant it.
She knew she looked like a crazy person, but she had to try. She would regret it the rest of her life if she didn’t at least try to save him.
She no longer cared if he knew about her magic. If by some miracle she was able to save him and he sent her away because of her lies, she could deal with that.
