That night, Donovan's temperature worsened.
Esme kept her vigil by his side. She laid cool clothes upon his brows and chest with patient care, monitoring his health progress without sleeping a wink. Leonardo had offered to stay by her side and aid her in tending him, but she would not allow it. She knew, just like her, he was also worried for his brother. But his strength too must be preserved.
The strain of his gift could leave him terribly spent once the activation had died down. Donovan had mentioned it at some point during that time they went horse riding in the North.
What troubled her most was the nature of Donovan's ailment. His skin burned as though seized by a common fever, and yet such maladies were not known to afflict werewolves. She wondered if this was some distemper, or some secret blight she had never heard before? What stunned her more was the fact that he wasn't getting any better despite all her effort.
"Books…."
