Sylvie felt the patient’s clammy skin under her fingers. The healer there to instruct her leaned forward and nodded.
Her palm sank against the patient’s skin, the feelers of her magic sank below it. The rush of blood was familiar by now, but there was an unusual softness—
The whole world shook, jarring Sylvie out of her concentration. Just a cough.
“Don’t worry. We have time.”
Sylvie caught herself wiping her hand on her tunic. She cleared her throat, feeling like her own lungs were filled with phlegm, and tried to breathe deeply.
Dissecting a dead body had been easier.