Dex had never been the obstacle before. He had been the solution, the shield, the man who stood between Serena and whatever was trying to reach her. In approximately ninety seconds, a Fae mage with mismatched eyes was going to tell him that his love was the thing putting her in danger, and the sentence was going to rearrange his understanding of himself.
Alaric's study smelled like antiseptic and old parchment, and it was the only room in Drakenfell where the healer's authority outranked the Crown's.
Dex had carried Serena here because it was closer than their chambers and because Hyran had arrived at the corridor intersection before he reached the staircase.
