Confronting RhysDemetrius left the command area shortly after the briefing, moving with that stiff, almost painful control. The residual heat of the silver sickness still clung to his scent, a sharp, metallic tang mixed with ozone. Even through the walls of the tent, I felt the thin, stretched thread of the Mate Bond. He was holding onto it, gripping it like a freezing man holds a thin rope over a cliff edge.

I spent the next two hours pacing the tent, the journal from the chest hidden beneath ...