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behind the re-formed lines, through the
soldiers who had rallied to their queen.
He had to get the poison out, had to find a
healer who could extract it immediately. Only
a few minutes remained until it reached her
heart—
Lysandra stumbled, a moan on her lips.
Aedion swung his shield on his back and
hauled her over a shoulder. A glimpse at her
leg revealed shredded skin, but no greenish
slime.
Perhaps the gods had listened. Perhaps it
was their idea of mercy: that the ilken’s
poison had worn off on other victims before
it’d gotten to her.
But the blood loss alone ... Aedion pressed
a hand over the shredded, bloody skin to
staunch the flow. Lysandra groaned.
Aedion scanned the regrouping army for
any hint of the healers’ white banners over