Page 117 of The Wolf King

He looks up at me, pale and drenched in blood and sweat. There’s a plea in his eyes.Don’t do this.

“You’re going to be okay,” I tell him. “I need to get him.”

“Rory!” he roars after me.

I bolt out of his room, and run as fast as I can toward Blake’s chambers.

Chapter Forty-One

Iburst into Blake’s room.

He’s draped in an armchair by the window, and doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading—the blue tome with stars on the spine that he took from my chambers.

“Please, do come in, little rabbit.” He flicks to the next page. “No need to knock.”

“He’s hurt. You need to come.Now.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Wolfsbane.”

His expression is unreadable, but he gets up.

He places the book on his writing desk, which has been tidied after the other night. In fact, the space is now immaculate; the bed is made, books are neatly tucked into the shelves along the wall, and the sheepskin rug by the hearth no longer glints with shards of broken glass.

He pulls a black leather case out of a drawer in his armoire, then heads to the door. I fall into step beside him.

When we enter Callum’s chambers, my stomach drops.

He’s pulled himself up onto the bed and his downy quilt is red with his blood. His breathing is raspy, and he’s barely moving.

“Callum?” I bolt across the room and grab his hand.

His fingers don’t curl around mine like they usually do. His skin is cold.

Dots dance in front of my eyes as Blake kneels by my side.

He grabs Callum’s shoulder and inspects the wound. “Why didn’t you ride back earlier, you stubborn fool?”

Callum’s eyes are glazed. I’m not sure he can hear what Blake is saying.

The chambers swim around me.

I recognize the look on his face. My mother had that expression not long before she died.

“Hold his shoulders.” Blake’s command jolts me back into my body.

I lean over the bed as Blake produces a small vial of translucent liquid from his case.

“Brace yourself,” says Blake. “He’s not going to like this.”

I force myself to breathe, even though the air is thick with the scent of blood and poison. It mingles with the heavy woodsmoke coming from the fireplace.

I nod, remembering how hard Ryan fought against the antidote when it was given to him. Callum must be double his size and strength.

Blake uncorks the vial and tips about half of it on the wound. It hisses, and my muscles tense, readying for a fight.

Callum doesn’t react.

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