“Yes. Great. I’ll be here,” he said as Prea jogged away down the tunnel.
He sighed in relief and closed his eyes.
* * * *
Tarquin snapped awake in the castle’s sickroom because Prea was shaking him. He shivered, despite the thick walls and the roaring fire in the hearth and what seemed like twenty blankets pinning him to the bed. It felt like there was no blood left in his body.
Prea helped him push himself up since his arms were trembling, until he was sitting on the cot with his feet on the floor. “Are you all right? What happened?”
“I’m fine,” she said. Her eyes were wet, but she was beaming. “But you were unconscious when we came back for you. Faladir brought you here.”
“Faladir?” Tarquin gaped. “What?” He turned his head, frantically looking for him. “Fali?”
“I’m here, Quinny,” his brother said.
Alive.