Metheea woke when Azrayel stopped breathing.
Her eyes opened before she understood why. For several heartbeats, she lay frozen beside him with one hand spread across his chest, waiting for the familiar movement beneath her palm.
His heart continued beating.
His lungs did not.
Metheea pushed herself onto one elbow. The blanket slipped from her shoulder as she leaned over him, searching his face.
His lips remained pale.
The dark veins beneath the skin of his throat had not spread farther.
"Azrayel."
His chest finally lifted.
The breath was shallow enough that she almost missed it.
Only after it left him did another follow.
Metheea slowly lowered herself beside him again, though the tightness in her chest refused to ease.
She had spent most of the night this way.
