Killian looked terrible.
That was Isla's first thought when she saw him in the foyer.
Pale. Moving stiffly. Fresh bandages visible under his shirt. The bruise on his jaw had darkened to purple.
But his eyes were sharp. Alert. Scanning the room like he was already planning defenses.
"You shouldn't be here," Isla said from the stairs. "You should still be in medical care."
"And you should be in a secure room with guards." His gaze found hers. "But here we both are, being stubborn."
"I'm not hiding in a room while Roman attacks."
"I wasn't suggesting you hide. I was suggesting you stay alive."
"Same thing in your world."
Killian winced, and not from his injuries. "Can we not do this right now? We have forty-eight hours before Roman moves. I'd rather spend it preparing than fighting."
"Fine. Then tell me the plan."
"The plan is I fortify this building and you stay inside where it's safe."
"Wrong. Try again."
"Isla—"
