Chapter 17 Held But Unclaimed

• The fever hit like a storm after sunset.
• Mira tossed against the sheets, her skin damp, hair sticking to her temples. Every breath she took sounded like it scraped her throat raw. The heavy velvet curtains of the room muffled the sounds of the estate, leaving only the ragged rise and fall of her breathing and the low, steady sound of his.
• Cassian sat in the high-backed chair beside her bed for hours, unmoving except for the restless clench and release of his jaw. His long fingers gripped the carved wood of the armrests, knuckles pale against the dark grain. Every moment tested him the sight of her shivering, the way her lips parted when she gasped, the fragile pulse fluttering in her neck like a trapped bird.