Matheus, Quin, and Alistair gathered around Matheus’ bed, all three watching as Bianca pushed herself into a sitting position. She’d refused any help, despite the obvious effort the action cost. Her red curls glowed supernaturally vivid against her ashen skin. Alistair had managed to wipe away most of the blood, but a few traces remained along her hairline and over the tops of her ears.
Matheus rubbed absently at the fading rash along his wrists. Whatever the substance in Bianca’s blood that affected him and Alistair was, its effects didn’t last long. Alistair had been even more exposed, and only faint traces of pink remained on his skin.
Bianca settled onto the mound of pillows, tugging the blanket up to her armpits. She matched Quin’s gaze, forcing a wide smile.
“Debriefing time, I reckon,” she said. “I don’t know how they got in. I was in the library, came running out when I heard the explosion.”
“So they did have grenades,” said Alistair.
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