The infirmary was dim and quiet by the time Bella slipped in again.
It had been three days since the Moon Duel. Three days since she watched Wren tear into Luke with a fury that had made her blood go cold. And three days since Jesse had spoken to her at all.
Luke's cot was near the window, the silvery light of the waxing moon slanting across his pale, bandaged form. He looked smaller somehow — not just in body, but in spirit, curled on his side like someone trying to hold himself together.
Bella approached without sound. Her steps had become instinctively light, as though she feared waking ghosts instead of a friend.
She sank into the chair beside him, elbows on her knees, and exhaled slowly..
"You idiot," she whispered, not unkindly. "You really thought you could take her? Don't you know that she has a lethal method of fighting that makes recovery hard.
His lips twitched before his eyes even opened. "Do you feel bad for me?"
