Elara slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified, choking back the bile rising in her throat. "What—what is that?"
Kyran's jaw tightened. He touched the edge of the wound carefully, barely skimming the ruined skin with his fingertips. The blackness clung there, slick and tar-like, refusing to budge.
"I cannot say," he admitted. "I've never seen anything like it before. The only thing I can determine is that it's not natural."
Elara could barely breathe. Her entire body felt cold. Caspian barely stirred beneath Kyran's inspection, only a faint twitch of his fingers, a slight furrow in his brow.
"We need Melanova." He turned to look at Elara, his face grim. "Stay here with His Grace, I'll go fetch her. I don't suppose I have to tell you this, but—"
"I'll make sure no one else comes in, don't worry."
