Chapter 38

• Nysa POV
• Marcus’s healer tent smells like crushed herbs, smoke, and whatever bitter tea he keeps forcing down Darius’s throat whenever he gets injured—which is apparently often.
• I sit on the low cot while Marcus circles me like he’s trying to decide whether I’m a wolf or a puzzle he wants to take apart. My skin still tingles from shifting back. My bones ache. And Darius hasn’t moved from the spot next to me since he brought me in.