At the far end of the room, Rhett remained seated, slumped back against the tall chair. His eyes had grown glassy, jaw tight, but his breathing was uneven.
Magnolia stopped, turning toward him sharply.
"You need to rest," she said, voice softer than it had been all day.
"I'm fine," Rhett rasped. His voice sounded thinner now, lacking its usual weight.
"You're not," Magnolia whispered. "You've barely been standing since the last breach."
Beckett took a small step forward. "Magnolia's right. Your fever's worse."
Rhett waved a hand dismissively but winced as his fingers trembled slightly. "The fever will pass."
Magnolia moved toward him, crouching beside his chair so their eyes met. She reached for his hand before he could pull away, holding it between both of hers. His skin was hot, burning.
"You're burning up," she breathed.
Rhett tried to steady his breath but failed, closing his eyes briefly as a shudder wracked his frame. His jaw locked tight again, trying to push through.
