Three hours before the council

Marina woke to Silvain's fury.

It crashed through their bond before she even opened her eyes a tempest of rage and terror and love so fierce it took her breath away. She could feel him pacing somewhere nearby, his emotions bleeding into hers with an intensity that made her chest ache.

"You're awake," Lyra said from beside the bed. "Finally. You've been unconscious for six hours."

Marina touched her throat, feeling thick bandages where Ragnar's knife had carved a line from ear to collarbone. The wound throbbed but had been stitched closed with expert precision. "How bad?"

"Bad enough." Lyra's expression was grim. "Another inch...