Syris smiled, but before he could answer, he collapsed.
Roxy immediately called for her mates, and they rushed to take him into the cabin. Roxy was a bundle of nerves, her hunger forgotten. Zarek moved the snake into the sun room.
Zarek stood in the corner, his hand pressed against the stone wall, channeling a steady, intense stream of heat into the room's foundation. He had turned the space into an incubator, raising the temperature to over a hundred degrees to keep the Basilisk alive.
Roxy didn't feel the heat. She sat on a stool beside the makeshift cot, holding a damp cloth to Syris's forehead.
Her eyes were dry, burning with a focused intensity that was far scarier than her tears.
Syris was unconscious. The spear had been removed, a gruesome task that had required Torian's strength and Kaelen's steady hands, but the damage was severe. The weapon had been serrated, designed to tear scales upon exit.
