"You'll be fine," he told her faintly, and he had to believe that, had to believe she would be all right. He stared at her, at her pale cheeks and firewhiskey eyes all sunk in purple hollows, and dry, blue-tinged lips until his eyes hazed over and he couldn't see anything anymore, but a blur. His eyelids felt heavy and he couldn't breathe, and the last thing he heard before his eyes slid shut and his mind shut down, falling into darkness, was Madeleine Dubois-Volkov's accented voice.