THE KING RALLIESMy legs were shaking almost as much as his. The effort of pulling that silver out of him had left me hollow, like a well that had been pumped dry. But looking at Demetrius now, I knew I couldn't sit down.

He was trying to stand. His hands were white where he gripped the edge of the bed. He looked like a man who had forgotten how to use his own bones.

"Wait," I said, reaching out to catch his elbow. "You aren't ready. Your heart... it’s still finding its rhythm ...