“He’s damned lucky, then,” Fergus says. He sits down next to Riona’s bed, stroking her hair back from her forehead. That red hair is the only color on her person at the moment. It looks more brilliant than ever against her pallor. I’m torn because I think Fergus might want to be alone with his daughter. But I don’t want to leave Riona’s side—not for an instant. Fergus can feel me standing behind him, my eyes fixed on Riona’s face. “You don’t have to leave,” he tells me. “It’s because of you she’s alive.” “I shouldn’t have let her drive back alone.”
