Mary Ann’s POV
The door opened.
Modric stood on the other side for less than a heartbeat before his sword slipped from his hand and his knees struck the stone.
“Modric!”
I lunged forward, but the Nightveil guards holding me tightened their grip.
One pulled my right arm behind my back while the other wrapped an arm around my waist.
“Do not move,” he ordered.
Modric lifted his head.
His face had gone grey.
Blood soaked the left side of his armor and spread beneath him across the floor. The scent of silver reached me immediately, sharp and poisonous beneath the heavier smell of blood.
His eyes found mine.
Relief entered the bond.
Then pain overwhelmed it.
“Run,” he forced out.
I stared at him.
He had crossed the ruins bleeding, injured, and half-poisoned to reach me.
Now he wa
