I coughed out liquid with a jolt, feeling as though my organs had been wretched out of my mouth. Someone was holding me upright. Brushing away wet hair. I leaned against the bulk of them to steady the tremors that wracked through me.

"Jaron."

Imogen. I slouched against her comforting body, buried my face in the crook of her neck and heaved. Trying, and failing, to breath in her scent through my clogged nose. Around us stood everyone else, I noticed. But only her clothes clung to her body. I wondered if she had recklessly jumped in after me. I wouldn't have heard the end of her reprimanding if our positions were switched. Though I didn't even have the strength to mention it.

Her breaths were uneven, jumbling whatever she was saying. The others seemed to understand her just fine though.

"It hurts."

She gave me her attention instantly, "What hurts, my love?" I more lip-read than actually heard her, before turning away to cough out more water.

She had one hand on my forehead and the other bracing my shoulders, whispering kind words. And for the first time, I was scared for myself. Because I wanted to spend more time with her. Hold her, kiss her. To be held and to be kissed by her. Tell her every day that she is the single best thing that had ever happened to me.

"Honey, what hurts?" Imogen repeated, her voice laced with concern. Whatever anger she had with me seemingly dissipated from the moment I plummeted over the cliff edge.

"Everything," I slumped back against her and nuzzled my face into her warmth.

A few moments passed before I registered her touch. On my wrist this time. I jerked away, almost knocking her off balance even though she was kneeling. Sure, it was plainly obvious that there was something wrong with me now. Because apparently, I was too weak to keep myself standing upright anymore. They didn't have to know that though. I could pretend that I was dehydrated and fainted. That I haven't slept in days and was feeling too exhausted to stay on my feet. Both were true but not the whole truth.

I started shoving my exposed wrists between our bodies, intent on hiding every bit of skin that would sell me out entirely, but she wretched them from beneath me with the type of anger that compelled me to obey.

A sharp inhale, "Jaron, what is this?"

I could focus on nothing but the rough linen as it was rolled further over my forearm. I didn't know how bad it looked. But if Imogen's trembling touch was of any indication, I had probably seen better days. The truth was out. All the plans I had made to die unceremoniously, causing as little pain as possible for the others by being more difficult than ever before, ceased to exist. Especially when Imogen tore open my shirt, and with wide eyes traced the ridges of black veins across my skin. It looked as though thin tree roots were coiling around my body, dragging me beneath the ground before I was ready to go.

"Jaron," her tone was warning. Sounding angry in a way she hadn't intended, the worry and confusion in her gaze told me as much. No, it wasn't confusion. Imogen was on the verge of tears. She called for Tobias but I couldn't look away from her. I wanted, more than anything, to wrap my arms around her and tell her that crying was unnecessary.

Tobias' face replaced Imogen's above me. An odd sense of understanding written across it. "Jaron." Right, scratch understanding. His eyes were glassed over too. Voice unsteady when he asked, "How long?" But I didn't understand what exactly he was asking. How long ago I was poisoned or how long I had left? "Am I right in thinking that this is some sort of poison?"

Imogen's voice was unintentionally harsh again. "Poison?" Unsteady. Confused. But I recognised the urgency like it was my own. "Tobias, I swear. Choose your words carefully or I will-"

"And pretend I'm blind next?" He snapped back. Had I the ability to lift my hand, I'd have slapped him for talking to her that way. But it took far more effort than it should have to even follow the logic of their conversation, let alone raise a hand. Besides, silence spoke louder than words now. So when Tobias looked back at me, I knew he answered his own question.

I begged him with my eyes to think of an excuse. He was smart enough to connect all the dots. So was Imogen. So was everyone else. But a training physicians' opinion could sway them to ignore what they saw for themselves, if he were to listen to my silent pleas. He must have understood why I was being so distant and insistent on going on this journey alone. Knew how important it was for me to keep my numbered days a secret so that everyone else could go about their lives without a worry.

Roden peered over Tobias shoulder, "So, what is it?"

"I'm not sure."

"You just said it was poison."

Tobias looked over at Roden gravely, "Yes, but it's not one I'm familiar with."

"What?" Imogen released a lungful of air. I watched her scan Tobias' expression for any sign that he was lying. Temporary hope lost to grief in a flashing second. And an emotion I hoped to never see again contorted her face. She shook her head vigorously enough that her braid was loosening. "No." Imogen glanced desperately at me; streaks already left in the place of tears that were rolling down her dusty cheeks. "No, no, no." She pushed Tobias away, pulling me to her protectively, "You're wrong!" Placing a hand over my heart, she whimpered, "Jaron, please tell him that he's wrong."

"I'm sorry."

She was mumbling into my shoulder now. And despite the pain it caused, I let her. I would endure anything for her. And seeing her like this ignited a different kind of pain within me, far more excruciating than death.

Tobias had already gone to comfort a very stoically pale Amarinda. She had become one of my most trusted friends. There were times when Imogen would go to her and air out all of her grievances about me, regardless of me sitting with them. When Imogen was particularly frustrated with me, I had wished I hadn't found myself in their vicinity. But it was all worth the gossip I had gathered on Tobias. Pity I could never use it against him.

Roden stood beside them, staring wide eyed at me, knuckles white on the handle of his sword. In a way, this was the most emotional I had ever seen him. I knew he would protect everyone as fiercely as I had. Maybe even more. He grew stronger with every day and a leader Carthya deserved.

"Not all poisons are lethal," Imogen said. "Jaron. This one will go away. It will. Won't it?"

I shook my head.

Imogen

I wanted to scream, but little sound above a whisper left me.

Grief. It left me numb and empty. I wasn't ready to lose him. Lose a part of myself that I cared for more deeply than anyone would ever know. Jaron was my everything.

Then there was guilt. Why hadn't I noticed this earlier? Why did I let my anger for his foolishness get the best of me? I knew he was well aware of my disapproval. And yet I kept pushing. Knowing that punishing him wasn't what I truly wanted. That I only did it to protect myself from future hurt. And now I had lost days of time he could have spent in my embrace.

"Take him back to the camp."

Roden and Tobias got to work in silence, and I brushed off Amarinda's attempt to console me with her company, watching them carry the limp body of a former warrior as if it were the most fragile, precious cargo.

When they were well out of sight, I all but stumbled to a nearby bush and vomited until my body was purged of any feeling.

Pain.

Aravac leaves.

I needed to alleviate his pain.

Purple flowers.

Like a mirage, they appeared in my sight. Their stems, sharp against my cold, numb skin.

The walk to camp back was perhaps the longest I had ever experienced.

It wasn't until I heard the clanging of swords that time fell back into place and my legs carried me without a second thought.